Allegiance
by Bob Obo
Summary: The peacekeeper wars are over. But for some the war is never over.
1. Chapter 1

She screamed. She screamed until her voice was hoarse, until her throat was raw. She screamed, forgetting her conviction to remain silent. Conviction, rationality, the simplest of thoughts fled as pain hammered her like thousands of white hot needles running through her brain.

As suddenly as it had begun the pain was gone. She slumped forwards, taking gasping, shuddering breaths as slowly the agony receded and the world swum back into focus. It wasn't much of an improvement.

The dimly lit interrogation chamber was a terrifying sight consisting of bare, rough stone walls, floor and ceiling. The hard stone floor was encrusted with dried blood and much worse. There were no windows, what little light there was merely highlighted hints of various dark implements of torture. Sharp, terrifying, cold metal invited the victims mind to fill in the shadowy blanks with apprehension more terrifying than even the bleak reality. Many subjects broke before anything had to even be employed - their mental defences crumbling and melting away. The strong and proud turned to weeping children before a single clawed finger was laid on them, their minds simply unable to endure the thought of what was to come.

_Of course, she'd always prided herself on her mind. _

Nothing however, in that terrible room quite rivalled the comparatively harmless looking contraption she was strapped into. Scorpius' Aurora chair had been merely a pale imitation of this work of twisted Scarran genius.

"Still, you resist."

She tried unsuccessfully to focus on the slight figure – relatively of course, that stood just out of the light, watching her pain with interest.

She was unprepared as the blinding fire seared through her head again, crackling down her spine and setting every cell in her body writhing with torment. She wasn't even aware of her own involuntary shriek this time, nor could she guess how long it lasted before the pain was mercifully cut short.

"What are you hiding from me?"

Sikosu dragged a trickle of air down her swollen trachea. It felt like she had eaten broken glass.

"I told you..." she coughed weakly, tasting blood, "I am hiding... nothing! I have always been your... loyal servant."

The Scarran took a step forwards into the light. A cruel smile crossed Akhna's reptilian face "Perhaps."

This time the pain overwhelmed Sikosu. It tore through her mind and soul, stripping away pride - ripping though memory - shattering belief - annihilating mere thought, until there was nothing but agony and darkness then finally merciful oblivion.

"Oh crap..."

When a plan isn't going to work, it'd be nice to figure that out before you're already half way through it.

Then again, when did their plans ever work?

"Oh crap." Crichton repeated to himself like a mantra - or possibly a prayer.

The bodyguard regarded him impassively. Crichton wasn't sure whether the man had heard his outburst of not, if he cared, or even if he understood. Crichton studied his unexpected companion nervously. He looked as if the only language he understood was the physical kind, the kind where he caved someone's skull in by way of greeting. That would be his idea of a polite cough of course. If you were feeling impolite or didn't notice (what with the skull fracture and all), he could probably squeeze your chest until your eyeballs burst with just one of his big, meaty fists. Said big meaty fists were connected to big, meaty forearms, connected to upper arms that only got bigger and connected to a body that looked something like an upright elephant on steroids. Perched on top like an egg balanced on a mountain peak was a tiny head with baleful, beady red eyes that peered out with a terrifying lack of intelligence.

Someone like that would be hard to fool.

_Whose stupid idea was this?_ part of his brain screamed, while another part simultaneously reminded him, _Yours._

"Remind me not to listen to myself again any time soon." he muttered.

"_Ah, Mr. Cretin!_"

Crichton turned, trying to identify the owner of the voice. The voice sounded delighted. The voice oozed delight. The voice clearly didn't want to be your best friend, because there was not one feasible variant of the universe in which this state of affairs is not already so. The voice quite clearly said – _you my dear sir are the most important person in the universe to me, at least until your credits run out. Then without a moments hesitation I'll knife you in the back and feed your corpse to the carrion birds. But naturally only for profit. Until that moment I'm your best friend._

It was a voice that could put a lot of meaning into a few short syllables. It was accompanied by an owner that completely lived up to it.

If he was forced to wager, he would have guessed that the owner of the voice was female, purely by stature, basic appearance and tone of voice – although out here of course he had learned never to make such a wager. She, he or it had greasy pale yellowish tinged skin. She (possibly) had lank colourless hair that was slicked back and so oily it almost appeared painted on. She wore a sickeningly slimy expression on her face - which matched the slime which coated her body, leaving a trail wherever she walked. Everything about her, from her stance, to her wide grin which revealed blackened and pointed teeth, said – _I am your friend_. Except her eyes. They shimmered with avarice and malice and all the warmth of a corpse.

Crichton fixed an equally dead grin on his face as she approached. "It's Crichton." he amended.

"Of course. I am Tinala." the creature said easily. She offered a hand.

Crichton hesitated just a moment, then reached out and shook it. It felt like shaking hands with an eel. Absently he wiped his palm on his coat.

"I'm looking for someone." he declared.

The greasy alien gave him a calculating look. "A lot of people are looking for someone."

Crichton returned the stare levelly, "I've heard you're the person to speak to. I'm looking for a... special someone."

The grin broadened slightly. A forked tongue appeared for a moment over jagged teeth. "Maybe I am." the lifeless eyes glittered and the tone turned hostile. "And maybe you just made a mistake coming in here. Maybe it won't be one you get a chance to repeat."

Crichton sensed the walking slab of meat looming over him start to tense. In one fluid movement he pulled out his pulse pistol and aimed it at the slimy little slave traders head with a speed that could have caught lightning by surprise.

"Maybe." he conceded. Without breaking eye contact he reached into his pocket with his free hand. He dumped an assortment of sparkling crystals at the loathsome little creatures feet.

"Maybe not."

Tinala's eyes darted from the weapon to the small fortune, then back again. She made a small, careful gesture. Her protector stepped back grudgingly. She smiled again as if nothing had happened, "I think you've come to the right place!"

2


	2. Chapter 2

"No, no, no!" Crichton emphasised his dissatisfaction by thumping his palm on the desk. The projected image blurred and distorted each time he did and Tinala winced in tandem.

"Too short, too tall," Crichton continued to flick derisively through the images. "Too fat, too thin, too slimy, too ugly, too... male?"

Tinala discretely moved the delicate device away from her erratic customers reach. "Females all, I assure you," she continued to cycle through the images. "I'm sure something will catch your -"

"_Wait._" Crichton snapped.

Tinala peered at the image. "Ah yes. You have excellent taste, if I may say so," Crichton's glare was hostile, then his eyes drifted back. He brushed his hand against the control so that the hologram zoomed in on the monochrome girls face, "One of our latest shipments. Nebari. Very rare. Somewhat spirited, but -" she grinned conspiratorially, "- many of our clients enjoy the challenge of breaking their slaves personally."

The look Crichton gave her was anything but collaborative. He looked back at the image. If not for the total lack of pigment she could have passed for human. Of course, out here humans were the aliens, before him no-one knew the species and wouldn't have cared either way. He had become something of a curiosity, somehow he'd gained quite a reputation in certain disreputable circles. He guessed that when half the galaxies armies are hunting you down for years on end, you gain major credit simply for staying alive. "I want to see her."

The slime covered slaver dripped with uncertainty, "I can assure you that what you see here is -"

"No, in person. No photoshopping. I want the real deal."

The slaver poised, undecided. "Very well." she declared.

Crichton was led down a maze of featureless half-lit corridors. On each side he passed heavily barred doors with symbols – numbers he guessed, written above them. A slight aroma of effluent seeped through and the occasional muffled sob escaped. Uniformly spaced turrets spoke a clear message; that was all that would ever escape from here.

As they walked, Tinala slipped back into her practised sales pitch. Her oversized bodyguard lumbered along behind, wheezing with the effort of locomotion.

"Of course this particular slave will be very expensive, you understand? Nebari slaves are most rare, they are a xenophobic race very few are ever seen outside of their own territories, so naturally there is a great demand for this species – particularly for one so young and attractive, in the royal court. It seems the Dominar has quite the appetite and in fact, this one is scheduled to be shipped to the palace very soon," she leaned closer to him confidentially and Crichton cringed at the stench of rotting meat. "Although I'm sure we can work something out..."

They stopped outside of one of the identical cells. Tinala keyed a code into the lock, carefully shielding the combination from him with her body. Crichton glanced away quickly, Tinala's body wasn't something he felt much like ogling, not on a full stomach.

The door swung open with an well practised ominous creak. Crichton looked hesitantly into the cell.

Contrary to his fears, it wasn't quite the nightmare he'd been dreading. The cell was clean, if sparse. There was a single light built flush into the ceiling. There was a toilet in the corner that looked almost usable. On the floor there was a thin mattress and sitting cross legged on it there was a grey skinned girl. She looked up at him expressionlessly.

She was looking a little the worse for wear. One eye was swollen shut and her lip was split. Instead of her customary grey, she wore a shapeless brown smock.

Crichton walked a few steps into the cell. The Nebari fluidly moved into a wary crouch, unfolding in a way that just slightly defied the eyes.

Tinala smirked insinuatingly, "Not bad, eh?"

Crichton looked at her coldly. "Damaged goods." he pointed out.

"Spirited, as I said. It will heal." Tinala said dismissively.

Crichton made a show of inspecting the girl.

"Very nice." he declared, "I'll give you ten strips of latinum."

Tinala looked baffled, "I'm not sure I understand..." she began.

Crichton rolled his eyes theatrically, "How much for her?" he said.

The little aliens eyes darted around and her tongue snaked out as she appraised him. "As I said, the Dominar himself -"

"Isn't here. I am and I have currency. Name your price."

"Ten thousand credits?" she looked uncertain.

Crichton laughed derisively. "I want to buy one little whore, not your entire stock. I'll give you two."

Tinala's eyes bulged. "Two thousand! Would you take my first born child as well? Eight or nothing."

"Four, in cash. Five if she doesn't smell of this place. I might throw in -" Crichton stopped.

Tinala was beeping. She produced a comms device from somewhere among her filthy clothing, sticky with slime.

"Yes?" she snapped irritably.

"Erm, ma'am – I'm very sorry to interrupt you?"

Crichton vaguely recognised the voice of one of the faceless guards.

"What is it?"

"We have a... situation in the foyer." the voice was tinged with panic.

"What kind of situation?" Tinala smiled reassuringly to Crichton, in a way that would have completely failed to assure him.

"There's an old woman here." the voice said reluctantly.

"So what?"

"She's... exhibiting herself." the voice said slowly. Clearly the voice was quickly coming to the opinion that whatever it was being paid was not nearly enough. Crichton winced in sympathy.

"_What? _Remove her. Kill her. I don't care!"

"There's also a Luxan, ma'am. He claims he's enjoying the show and he keeps hitting anyone who comes near. He's becoming quite irate," at that moment - as if to prove the point, there came the tinny sound of a roar, then the sound of something heavy hitting something else. Then there was a very small, but very distinct sound. It was someone whimpering in pain.

"Hello? Hello?" there was no reply but static.

Tinala looked around helplessly.

"Hey!" Crichton held up his hands. "If you've got a problem I can go someplace else."

"No! Stay here. This won't take long." Tinala started to scurry out of the cell. She turned, almost bumping into the bodyguard. "You! Stay here. Guard him!"

Crichton swore softly to himself. Tinala scuttled fretfully away.

Crichton regarded the vogon. It returned the stare blankly. Everything was going to plan, except for the lingering presence of the incredible bulk.

"Hey buddy!" Crichton tried to put an arm round its shoulders. Failing that he tried for one shoulder. He settled for an elbow.

"Any chance for a little quiet time, you know – find out what I'm buying, take a look under the hood," Crichton shook his bag of gems meaningfully and winked. He failed to guide the monster towards the door. "I can make it worth your while." he hinted desperately.

The guard looked down at him as he tried to drag it, like a duck trying to tow the Titanic.

"Frell off." it growled laboriously.

"Hey! No need for -"

"Hey Grannak!" Crichton looked over surprised. The Nebari had risen and crossed the room so the creature towered over her.

She reached up, and to Crichton's amazement the monstrosity leaned down so that she could caress the side of its face.

"How about you give the two of us a moment alone." she crooned, "Please?"

The thing gurgled uncertainly. "Ok Chiana." it growled finally.

"Thanks Grannak!" she called after the retreating giant.

Crichton blinked in astonishment. He tried it again. Then he realised it was just making him look like an idiot, so instead he focused on Chiana.

"You know – he's been working here for eight cycles, and not once did anyone ask him his name! Sweet kid though..." Chiana looked agitated and smug at the same time. Suddenly she leaned close to Crichton.

"Hey Chi." he whispered.

"Hey you," she swallowed hard. Crichton could see tears in her eyes that she refused to let fall. "What took you? I thought you'd abandoned me. I thought – I thought you weren't coming for me."

Crichton smiled gently. "You know I'll always come for you Chiana," he blushed and pulled away hastily. "Wait – I didn't mean that to sound..."

Chiana laughed at him. "So, did you get it?"

Crichton tried to salvage his dignity. "Yeah, here," he gave her a few small objects. "You sure you're going to be ok, going through with this?"

Chiana looked small and vulnerable for a moment, then she grinned impudently. "Sure. Just make sure you do your part. Where's the Ferengi bitch?"

Crichton laughed. He'd forgotten how much TV she'd watched on her short time on Earth. Now she tended to hog the TV he'd bought with him. She liked the sci-fi shows best, they made her laugh.

"Noranti and Jothee are providing a little distraction. Quite a big distraction actually." he shook his head to dislodge the visions that conjured.

Grannak poked his head back into the cell. "She come back." he said simply.

Tinala insinuated her way back into the cell, the wide anticipatory smile of a certain sale plastered on her oozing face. "All taken care of." she declared. "So, we have a deal?"

Crichton walked past her. "No. We do not have a deal."

The smile froze and dribbled away. "What?"

"I wouldn't pay you a dollar for that worthless little tralk." Crichton said.

"Perhaps -"

"You couldn't pay me to take her. Sell her to the Hynerian slugs, it's all she's good for."

"_Hey!_"

"Why -"

"Thank you for your hospitality," Crichton sneered hurriedly, "but I wish to leave. Now."

There was a moments silence. Tinala glared at Chiana, then Crichton and then her silent bodyguard. "Of course," she nodded curtly. "I'm sorry it was not to you liking. Maybe some other -"

Crichton swept regally out of the cell. "Maybe some other time."

The cell door slammed shut, leaving Chiana alone again.


	3. Chapter 3

Sikosu glanced disdainfully around the squalid little room.

It was a tiny little room, she could reach out her arms and touch the walls with the fingertips. Damp paint hung in strips off the walls. Crammed in was a bed complete with sheets occasionally moved by themselves, a tiny sink with a cracked mirror and a surprisingly solid looking safe.

Maybe not so surprising. The lock on the door was a joke and the kind of people who rented rooms here often had certain small but valuable possessions they wanted protecting from prying eyes. Of course Sikosu owned nothing but the clothing on her back and the one small item she had just removed from the safe.

She glanced at herself resignedly in the mirror. It was like looking at a stranger.

Her hair had grown longer during her interrogation. Not as long as before, but just long enough to get in her eyes while maintaining its blatant disregard for her wishes or for the laws of gravity. Her cheeks had hollowed and there were dark circles round her green eyes. Still, she was alive and relatively free, which was more than most who had seen the inside of Scarran interrogation chambers could say.

For an instance, the memories of that place rose up in her mind despite her efforts to block it out. From the endless parade of horror and humiliation, one particular ugly memory emerged unasked and unwanted.

_For a blissful moment of confusion she was lost, floating blissfully numb, unfeeling and unconfined by her battered body; free in her own mind only. In her imagination she saw Scorpius, a curiously gentle expression in his normally cold eyes. It was an expression he wore rarely, one she knew he reserved solely for her. He reached out a hand, gently tracing the curves of her naked body with his gloved fingers. _

_Without warning his expression changed to one of cold malevolence. He struck her hard across the face. When her vision cleared she saw he held a serrated knife. With a cruel smirk Scorpius thrust the knife into her stomach and twisted. She tried to scream, but the wrenching pain was so great it left her breathless. She felt the freezing pain flare relentlessly, flooding through her like boiling ice, dragging her down and tearing her back to reality._

_She lay, spread-eagled, strapped to a metal table. She shivered at the feeling of cold metal against her bare skin._

_Or maybe not just at that. The sight of the Charrid leering over her might have had something to do with the chill that swept through her. It raised the wicked twin of the knife she had seen to the light._

_The creature traced the blade across her skin in a parody of the gentle caress she had dreamed of. Then, grinning sadistically, it slowly began to cut._

_Standing in the background, her face expressionless, the dim light glimmering off the metal plate that covered the side of her head, Akhna watched impassively. It seemed to Sikosu as the agony of her shattered dreams and reality bled together to merge, that Scorpius stood beside her smiling..._

She shook herself violently, dislodging the memory from her minds eye with an effort. She realised with disgust that she was trembling despite the cloying heat. _Weak_, she berated herself.

With a last steadying breath she recognised as delaying, she left the squalid little room for the last time.

It was raining outside. It was a tedious, curiously oily rain that persisted day and night on this miserable little moon. The local populace had long ago given in to it and now plodded morosely through the streets seemingly indifferent. Sikosu did not share their sentiment. However, she had no currency to purchase more suitable clothing – she had spent the last of her money on her meagre accommodation and an equally meagre meal that would barely last her ten days. She gritted her teeth and bowed her head, then stepped out and endured the weather. She was almost instantly soaked, her waterlogged clothing doubling in weight to hang limply from her slight frame. She hurried her way across the damp street, avoiding eye contact with the locals. Kalish were not unheard of here, but in this part of the Scarran empire they were uncommon and she had no desire to attract attention to herself

Sikosu slipped into a narrow alleyway and activated the small device she had taken from the safe. She tried to press herself against the wall for what little protection from the weather the slight overhang provided. It didn't work, instead it seemed to make matters worse – above her a split drain funnelled a cascade of greasy water directly onto her head, plastering her hair to her face, coppery curls dripping in her eyes. She stayed where she was, stubbornly ignoring the drenching. She didn't care if it was foolish, if nothing else she could at least be her own fool.

As she stood shivering and soaking As she waited, a soft almost tranquil voice from her memory seemed to wash over her much like the rain, except with warmth.

_You have ruined something... unique._

Sikosu clenched her fists bitterly. Ironically those words, Scorpius' words when he discovered her supposed betrayal, words that had cut her so deeply, had eventually saved her from Scarran torture. Those words, torn from her exhausted mind by their devices, had finally convinced them that she was telling them the truth – that she was their loyal spy.

She smiled grimly. They were wrong of course.

She remembered the hatred in Akhna's eyes. Scarran royal caste, she had been stripped of rank and position after her failure to capture John Crichton – not to mention her near lobotomising by Crichton's mate. She had been demoted to the degrading task of interrogating the spy. Clearly she had wanted to shift the blame for her failure downwards. Never had she guessed at Sikosu's real purpose in allying herself with the Scarran. How thoroughly Sikosu had manipulated her. The thought made her almost laugh through the pain.

Almost.

She was startled back to the present again. She focused, wondering what had changed.

And there it was again. She heard a noise. Faint but clear, it came from down the other end of the dark alley.

She pressed herself against the wall. She focused on the deep shadows as she crept silently closer. Maybe she had simply imagined it? No – there. A slight movement in the shadows. Someone or something almost invisible in the dim light and the storm, someone that clearly didn't want to be seen.

She paused. If she approached along the ground, even carefully, she would be seen immediately. However, there was another option. Lightly, she vaulted up onto the wall. She slipped on the slimy surface, for a treacherous moment she thought she might fall. Then she caught her balance expertly – if she had known what a cat was she would have been insulted by the analogy to such an ungainly animal.

She ignored gravity and walked along the wall as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A moment later she vaulted down silently behind her mysterious companion. She stepped closer, her eyes intently trying to make out details of the oblivious form draped in a shapeless, dripping cloak.

Something heavy bowled into her, hitting her in the small of the back. She was hurtled off her feet and dumped unceremoniously in the mud. She tried desperately to roll then felt something land on her, pinning her heavily to the ground.

She writhed, struggling futilely to dislodge the weight on her back. Then she went completely still as someone yanked back her head and pressed a knife to her throat.

The world seemed to dissolve around her in blind panic as a Charrid voice whispered in her ear, "Well, what have we here?"


	4. Chapter 4

"What have we here then?"

Aeryn reached down and tickled D'Argo under the chin. The infant made an inarticulate gurgling sound of pleasure.

"Mummys been out shopping for you." she informed him gravely. "Look what we have here. We've got a nice new toy for you to play with." She held up what appeared to be a miniature ship – a Prowler, for inspection. "We've got you some more food, as Rygel keeps stealing it." she placed the jars of goo – baby food looks the same he universe over, next to the cot, "We've got a new shirt for your dad. I hope he likes the colour." a plain black t-shirt was put to one side. "And oh yes, what have we here? High yield military grade explosives."

The baby groped blindly and drooled.

Aeryn smiled. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a couple of cycles before you get to play with this though."

She looked up. "How was he Pilot?"

The massive many limbed creature smiled gently down at mother and son.

"He was just fine, Officer Sun." Pilot said.

Aeryn frowned. "You had no trouble with him? He didn't cry the whole time?"

"No trouble at all. The scutters fed and changed him, and then he spent most of the time asleep."

"Hmm. Maybe you should look after him more often."

One of the modified DRD's beeped at her cheerfully.

That had been another one of Johns bizarre ideas. Pilot was unbelievably good with D'argo, as Aeryn had found a few weeks ago. After yet another sleepless night, she had blearily taken the constantly squawking infant up to see Pilot on command. Pilot had held the baby gently in two of his arms, looking down with his huge, gentle eyes at the infant. D'argo had been transfixed by the sight, and by the living sounds of their ship Moya echoing through vast chamber. Since then he had vocally objected whenever his parents tried to separate him from Pilot.

Unfortunately, D'argo had just reached the age where was learning the fine art of crawling, which caused problems when he was left in the care of the alien, who by virtue of his symbiosis with Moya was rendered immobile. Crichton solution was to hole himself up in the maintenance bay with one of the ships diagnostic repair drones for an afternoon. The result was a modified DRD with a kind of arm on the front, complete with a three pronged hand at the top. He'd persisted in referring to it and the others Pilot had built mimicking his design as scutters. Aeryn didn't even try to guess why, but the name had stuck.

The result was that baby D'argo gained a new god-father and Aeryn and Crichton got some much needed rest. Aeryns only concern was that D'argo would grow up confused by all these different shaped parents.

"Have you heard from Crichton and the others yet?" Aeryn tried to sound causal.

"No. Not as yet." Pilot sounded slightly uncomfortable.

Aeryn sighed. Unconsciously she gripped her pulse pistol. "I told them this plan was frelled." An obscure phrase Crichton had once used came to her, "Crichton couldn't plan his way to wet a paper bag." she said angrily.

She paced back and forth agitatedly. Pilot looked on concerned. D'argo chewed happily on his new prowler.

The truth was, Aeryn was more irritated than angry, and more concerned than irritated. It was hard to blame her incompetent husband when she was responsible for his being in danger. After all, it was she who had insisted they stay to help Chiana and Rygel.

_We can't hide from the universe John. We either run or we fight, and I will not abandon my friends._

It had sounded vaguely noble and courageous a few days ago. It sounded hollow when she considered that she might just have condemned the father of her child to death.

"Testing, testing, one two three. Pilot, you out there?"

"I am here, commander." Pilot replied to the disembodied voice.

Aeryn let out an explosive breath. Anxiety dissipated allowing for irritation again, with anger waiting for its turn.  
"Crichton, where have you been?"

"Hi honey. Sorry about that, just stopped off for a beer and a fire fight. Slave traders don't seem to like the sound of 'no.'." Johns voice wafted through the comms infuriatingly glibly.

"Is everyone unharmed?" Pilot sounded concerned.

"Yeah, we're all good."

"Great, I can kill you myself." Aeryn muttered darkly.

"What was that Aeryn?"

"Never mind."

There was a pause. "How are things your end?"

"Fine. I purchased everything you specified."

There was another, longer pause. "I meant the _baby_, Aeryn."

Aeryn relented reluctantly. "D'Argo's fine John. Pilot took good care of him."

"Great." Aeryn smiled at the relief in his voice. "Just checking you didn't drop him down the abyss or something while I was out."

Pilot made an irritated sound. "Taking care of your child is a pleasure, commander. _You_ are the one I would like to drop down 'the abyss'."

Crichton laughed. "Good to know you care, pilot. Aeryn, can you meet us planet side in say – an arn?"

"I'll be there."

"I know you will. Say hi to D'Argo for me." With that the comms cut out.

Aeryn leaned down, jamming explosives and weapons into a bag. It was a large bag, and under the circumstances it needed to be. Slightly awkwardly she slung it over her shoulder.

She leaned down and gently kissed the now sleeping baby. "You be good for uncle Pilot." she whispered, "Mum and Dad are off to overthrow a government."

With that, Aeryn turned and made her way through the ship towards her prowler, struggling slightly under her load as she did. All the time she couldn't quite banish the feeling that something was going to go spectacularly wrong with their plan yet again.

It probably wouldn't have comforted her to know how right she was.


	5. Chapter 5

Chiana looked at herself uneasily in the mirror. .kcab dekool noitcelfer reH

It wasn't that she was exactly adverse to showing a little flesh from time to time when it suited her. It was an effective way of getting what she wanted, and she was an expert at that. But that was the point – it was always on her own terms. Not like this, not when she was being flaunted as nothing more than a possession, a pretty toy. Then again, this _was_ on her own terms, wasn't it? It had been her idea.

She looked dubiously at the few strips of gaudy material that wrapped her pale body. It was possible that if she was completely naked it would actually reveal _less_.

She glanced around the room, if only to avoid looking at her shameful reflection. The room was small yet bordering on luxurious. Most of it was filled with an enormous silk covered bed, which she had already found to be the most comfortable she had even felt. She idly wondered if she could fit it into her quarters on Moya when this was over.

There was a ornate dressing table and a huge wardrobe – filled with hundreds of tiny garments which together might just make one normal article of clothing. The rags she had worn in the slavers compound lay discarded in a heap in the corner, although the couple of small objects Crichton had slipped her were still concealed about her person. And then there was the full length mirror she stood in front of, desperately trying to quell her rising panic.

_It's a good plan._ She assured herself. _It'll work. All I have to do is turn off the internal security after the others take down the power. Then – then they'll be here. I won't be alone any more._

Chiana laughed derisively at her reflection, furious at the fear she saw there.

_What happened to me? _She pondered. _A few cycles ago I didn't need anyone. Now I can can hardly think when I'm on my own._

She wheeled away in disgust, searching for something to smash the mirror. She spun round as she heard a click as the door unlocked.

The door opened and a tall, gaunt, older woman walked in.

She was Sebatian judging by her appearance. Her angular face still bore lingering traces of beauty but it had been all but eroded by time and bitterness. She looked down her nose haughtily at the Nebari crouched warily across the room from her.

"You, girl. You will come with me." she commander imperiously.

Chiana barely bit off a retort as she remembered herself. She lowered her eyes, and in her most obedient tone said "Yes ma'am."

The twitch of a frown on the woman's face made Chiana want to tear her throat out. "You will learn your place soon enough girl."

Chiana followed the woman out of the well decorated cell, being careful to maintain a respectful distance. In a way it was easy. She knew exactly how to act. _Do as you are told. Fit in. Conform. Don't think and especially don't feel, because both will betray you. _After growing up on Nebari Prime, this should have been easy. It never was though.

She followed the woman through lavishly opulent corridors. Intricate tapestries hung from every wall, intersected by graceful engraved columns. She had it on good authority that this wing of the palace was nothing but a shadow of the splendour of the royal apartments, however.

Those few servants they passed stood aside with their heads bowed, their faces blank. There were no guards – after all, there was no need. No-one could enter or leave the palace without express permission. The palace was so completely secure that contingencies were an insult.

That would change tonight.

Chiana forced away the grin that thought provoked. Irrationally she glanced at the older woman's back, irrationally fearing she might have somehow sensed her thoughts.

She was lead into a moderate sized room that lacked a certain level of décor she had seen so far. While still richly furnished, this area had a purpose beyond simply existing. No amount of tasteless glitz could hide the bleakness of this room, and Chiana realised why.

Assembled in a line were a group of young women, all attired in a similar lack of clothing to Chiana. The woman seized her by the arm, unwittingly almost loosing a hand in the process. She roughly shoved Chiana to the end of the line.

Chiana glanced sidelong at the other girls. They all stood with their heads bowed and a expressionless look of cowed obedience in their dull eyes. She shuddered at the sight. All it had taken for her transformation to royal concubine had been a few altered records and a couple of days enduring a slaver facility. She couldn't contemplate what it would take to break her mind and spirit so thoroughly.

_Hey, maybe if you let a few more of your friends die, you'll find out. _

She tried to ignore her treacherous thought. She tried not to think of the dreams – the dream. The same dream that came to her every night without fail.

In the dream she didn't leave D'argo. In the dream he came with her and lived. In the dream she didn't abandon him. In her dreams he lay with her, his eyes full of love. _You didn't leave me. _Every night she would wake up with a start, still seeing his eyes staring into hers, and in one terrible moment reality would come flooding back to her, leaving her trembling with the cold realisation that she was alone.

"The Dominar is ready for you now."

Chiana looked up startled. She hadn't even noticed the entry of another person into the room. A grey faced servant inspected the line of slaves scornfully. He stopped at the end.

"You." he pointed at Chiana.

Chiana arranged her features into an appropriate expression of dread, while inside she leaped up and down and cheered. Looks like Rygel was right after all.

He'd sworn that Bishaan possessed a lust for Nebari that dwarfed his diminutive stature. The appearance of a Nebari slave girl would guarantee she would be picked personally for his attention. Rygel said he'd bet his life on it. Which was fine, except it was Chianas life he was betting.

"I haven't seen you here before." his eyes roamed up and down Chianas body in a way that made her flesh crawl.

Chiana open her mouth then stopped, uncertain how to respond or even if she was permitted to.

"She is a new acquisition, just arrived." the old woman said.

"Really? You are honoured girl. The Dominar has chosen your attentions for tonight." The servant smiled coldly, "Pray you do not disappoint him."

_Oh I can guarantee the little slug will be disappointed._ "Yes sir."

Again Chiana was led away, leaving the room this time through a different exit. She followed the servant down another short corridor. This one was different. For a start the colour was to her eye more pleasing. That is to say, there were no lavish decorations, just a utilitarian grey. She guessed why - this was the servants entrance to the royal wing. Here form gave way to function, although to be fair – someone _had_ draped a colourful sash round each of the massive automated turrets that stood by the doorway at the end of the corridor.

The man came to a stop in front of the door. This door too was not designed for its looks. It was big, it was heavy, it was built to define words such as 'impenetrable and 'imposing'. Even if someone somehow got past the turrets, they'd die of old age before they broke through this door.

The servant keyed a code into the panel beside the door, then placed his hand on the panel. There was a heavy clanking sound and the door swung open.

A drape hung low, concealing the ugly little door from offending the Hynerian royalties eyes. The servant twitched it aside with a flourish. Chiana stopped and gasped.

It took a moment for her brain to process the splendour that lay on the other side of that door. Beyond there was a huge hall. Actually, huge wasn't a strong enough word. Vast, massive, immense and gargantuan would just begin to cover a small part of a tiny percentage of the whole of it.

She wondered if the Hynerians were trying to compensate for something?

It wasn't just the sheer size of the room that took her breath away. Drapes hung from the walls, multicoloured dazzling things that seemed to shimmer in the light and stretched from ceiling to floor. Statues lined the walls, floating as if to mock gravity. Hynerians, she decided, even past Dominars didn't look much better even when they were twenty foot tall and made of marble. A frog was still a frog, even when it was a giant from that ruled a sizeable slice of the galaxy.

Hundreds of candelabrum's hung from the high ceiling, their light glimmering like an extroverted nebula.

All across the centre of the room stretched rows and rows of low wooden tables, and countless cushioned stools. The tables were laden with the decimated remains of a feast that could have fed a small planet.

They were in the Dominar and his wives private dining hall.

The servant was watching her reaction with amusement.

Chiana met his gaze and half shrugged dismissively. "I've seen bigger."

The man looked surprised and gave a little laugh. "You should watch that tongue around the Dominar, my dear." he moved closer to her menacingly. "He might just decide to cut it out."

Chiana leaned towards him, "Really? But I can do all kinds of fun things with it."

The man glanced down nervously at Chiana's cleavage. He couldn't really miss it as she'd shoved it almost into his face. Unconsciously he took a step back.

"Erm, I bet you can." he stammered.

"What's wrong?" Chiana grinned playfully, "Oh, don't tell me – did they cut _those _off too?"

The scene might have looked humorous if there had been anyone to see. The slave and her master. The latter almost climbing the drapes in desperation, the former mere inches away pinning him to the wall although she never quite touched him.

He glanced down again, sweat dripping down his nose. "Er. No." he squeaked. "No, definitely not."

Chiana looked down as if wondering what he was staring at. "Oh, do you like these," she crooned. She traced the contours of her breast with a fingernail.

The mans eyes widened nervously. He nodded just slightly, frantically.

Chiana plucked something out of her cleavage. "Well how do you like this?"

She touched her hand to the man's face. He gave a little sigh, then collapsed.

Chiana looked at the little palm held stunner. "Well frell me," she exclaimed. "What an idiot!"

She dragged the unconscious man to the wall and pushed the drape over him. It wasn't exactly subtle, but she didn't need him to remain hidden for long.

She ran across the huge hall and slipped through the slightly open oversized doors.

_First left, then third on the right. The security control room will be a door to your right. _A hundred and thirty cycles of exile hadn't clouded Rygels memory of his home.

_Lets hope he's right about there being no guards._ Chiana could elude capture easily enough, but she doubted the others would appreciate having to fight their way to the throne room.

She followed the ordained route, lurking in an alcove once to avoid an oblivious Hynerian as it floated by. This was almost too easy...

The door to the control room was locked of course. Again it required a key code and identification. Chiana retrieved the other object Crichton had given to her. It was a lockpick.

Its worth mentioning that it bore no real relation to the bent pieces of metal we on Earth would consider a lockpick, in the same way that a stone axe would bear little resemblance to say, a SCUD missile.

There was a faint dull boom and the floor trembled. For a moment the lights dimmed until the backup power took over. It was likely no-one in the palace but her even noticed, and in a moment no-one outside of it would be able to warn them.

But Chiana noticed. She swore angrily. Crichton and Aeryn were early!

She turned her attention back to the door. After a few moments of work, it swung open.

It was dark inside. Most computers weren't afraid of the dark. A few consoles glowed dimly in the gloom.

After a false start or two, Chiana found a console that would fulfil her needs.

Bypassing the systems security protocols was easy. Say what you like about the little slug, Rgyel was cunning if nothing else. Anyone who could meticulously plan for his own downfall by building secret contingencies and bypasses into the system - which still thankfully remained undiscovered, shouldn't ever be underestimated.

Then she did what she had come here to do. It seemed anti-climactic. Risking her life, enduring the compound, playing the good little slave. All to bypass a couple of protocols.

Silently without fuss, the doors all unlocked, the defences turned themselves off, and communications started broadcasting static.

And that was it. All she had to do was wait. Rygel was as good as Dominar now, and she'd make sure he understood quite how much he owed her beforehand.

She drew back into the gloomy room. Some nameless instinct warned her an instant before the soldiers turned the corner and came into view. She pulled the door almost shut behind her.

Chiana watched them pass before she let off a string of expletives. It wasn't just that the supposedly unguarded palace was actually heavily protected. It wasn't just that she had no way to contact the others to warn them.

It was that, here in the seat of power of the Hynerian empire, the soldiers she had just seen march past had been Charrids, and they were being led by a Scarran.


	6. Chapter 6

Crichton watched as the sprawling bulk of the royal palace swum into view.

Swum into view. There was a reason he used that phrase. He couldn't quite shake the sense of claustrophobia, knowing there was a hundred thousand tonnes of water just above his head.

The transport pod groaned ominously.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Rygel marvelled. He hovered behind them with the excitement and enthusiasm of a child at Christmas. Crichton guessed finally reclaiming his birthright could do that to anyone, even the cynical little Dominar.

A beam of light from the pod swept across a dome.

Aeryn made a a nondescript kind of noise as she steered the pod closer. "It's ugly." she said.

"Sixty thousand slaves died to build it." Rygel declared, as if this was some sort of mark of authenticity. "It took over a hundred cycles to complete. It is glorious! And in an arn, it will be mine again..."

Crichton glanced nervously at the ceiling as the pod creaked again.

"And why exactly was it built underwater, Sparky?" he inquired.

"Security." Rygel replied. "The first royal palace was destroyed during the war with the Charrids. It was bombed from orbit. Its difficult to shoot what you can't see."

"You'd be the expert on that." Aeryn said quietly.

The transport pod glided across the ocean floor, its floodlight illuminating a minuscule part of the huge, dark underground city.

And a city it was. The royal palace itself was only a part of the sprawling structure. It would have reminded Crichton of the Vatican City if Rome had been build underwater, and if you exchanged the clergy for greedy, scheming little slugs.

Actually, it was just like the Vatican City...

In the lower city were the tradesmen, the engineers, the salesmen, the bustle of any city. None of it ever encroached on the palace which perched above.

Ships docked with the lower levels all the time. Visitors and their currency were always welcome. No ships docked with the palace itself however, the mere attempt would see the crew finding an early, watery grave. Unless of course someone disabled the primary generator. Then there would be about a space of about one hundred microts before the external defences and sensors switched over. During this time a ship could in theory dock with the royal palace undetected.

Jothee and Noranti it just so happened, had placed a rather large quantity of explosives in the primary generator. It should be going off right about... now.

Crichton peered out fretfully. The city continued its damp existence, seemingly unperturbed.

"That was it." Aeryn declared.

"It was? What was it?" Crichton said.

"There was a power surge for just an instance. The generators are down." Aeryn said confidently, pointing at a display Crichton hadn't seen change.

"Are you sure?" Crichton persisted.

"We'll find out in a few microts either way." Rygel said calmly.

Crichton glared at him. The little Hynerian returned his gaze without a hint of fear. He'd been waiting for this day for so long, his usual cowardice was overridden with determination.

Crichton held his breath as their pod glided agonisingly slowly towards the lurking palace. To his surprise, it remained uncaring or unwitting to their approach, and completely failed to annihilate them.

There was an echoing thump as the transport pod came alongside one of the docking ports.

"Alright, this is it." Aeryn said. She stood and hoisted a cannon almost as long as she was tall.

Rygel raised himself to his full height, for what that was worth.

"Bishaan the Usurper, your cycles of tyranny now finally come to an end. Your betrayal, your reign of injustice are finally over. I, Dominar Rygel the Sixteenth, am finally returned from long exile to lead my people to salvation. Aided by my gallant and loyal companions shall I - _oh, wait a microt. Wait for me!"_

The royal palace was every bit as extravagant as Rygel had said. The grand décor failed to hide the fact that it was also conspicuously deserted.

"Ok, Ryg. I thought you said there would be guards." Crichton queried.

Rygel frowned. "There should be. I don't know..." he trailed off and looked around apprehensively.

They continued through rooms and corridors under Rygels direction. All were eerily devoid of life.

They arrived at the same featureless corridor Chiana had passed through earlier. The turrets stood silent and the huge door was open.

"Looks like Chiana actually managed to do her job." Aeryn said grudgingly.

"Of course she did." Crichton said.

He felt a strange need to defend the erratic grey girl. He knew that since D'Argo's death – that is to say, D'Argo _seniors_ death she had been acting strangely. Of course, strange was a relative term. On the surface she seemed her same old carefree self, but at times it seemed like something was missing. Unfortunately in Aeyrns case it seemed to be that little part that told her when to stop. Chiana took great pleasure in driving Aeryn to the limits of her patience.

Sometimes, when Crichton passed her chamber at night, he thought he could hear her crying. His attempts to talk to her had been met with outright hostility. Eventually he had decided to leave her be and hope that she would come to him if she needed to.

In the meantime, Chiana and Aeryn maintained a increasingly frosty relationship.

Something exploded beside Crichton head.

He ducked belatedly. Enough guns had been fired at him that he was automatically searching for his aggressor even before pieces of the wall rained down on him.

He levelled his pulse pistol, painfully slowly.

He looked into the red eyes of his assailant, unpleasantly aware that he had to swing his arms all the way round in the time it had to take it to move its finger a very small distance to pull the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down. Typical of it.

Couldn't time slow down when he was doing that interesting, flexible, and as his spine reported the next morning - extremely painful things with Karen Shaw? Couldn't it have slowed down when he'd been in the maintanance bay with Ayeyn and she had grabbed him by his...

The point was, why did time always insist on slowing down in the quite frankly rubbish moments of his life, and to speed up to an unrecognisable blur on the rare moments something nice actually happened?

The only good point was that he got to watch in slow motion as a fraction of a second before it fired, the Charrid flinched. The blast singed his earlobe from a shot that would have otherwise have taken his head off. The Charrid fell on its side, ribs sizzling.

Slightly dazed, Crichton looked up at Aeryn.

"Thanks." he mumbled.

Aeryn scanned the corridor before offering him a hand. "You're welcome. What the frell are Charrids doing here?"

Crichton pulled himself to his feet. "I don't know! _Rygel!_"

Rygel didn't answer. The expression on his face was answer enough. He hovered in full view as more Charrids rounded the corner and began firing.

Crichton leaped desperately and tackled the Hynerian to the ground as gunfire ricocheted overhead. He pulled himself up and fired wildly in the general direction of the Charrids. The barrage wasn't particularly accurate, but it did give him precious seconds to pull Rygel to cover.

He fired another few shots, then darted back into cover without waiting to see the result. Aeryn fired a single blast and was rewarded with a howl of pain.

There was a sense of movement and a grey blur, then someone pressed up against him. Crichton glanced sharply, then relaxed.

"Hey Pip. Digging the Princess Leia look." he said approvingly.

"Crichton!" Chiana gasped breathlessly. "There are Charrids here!"

"Really?" Crichton fired off another volley and heard someone collapse. "Thanks for the warning."

"Scarrens too!"

"Crap! Ok, we've got to get out of here. Sparky, stay down! Aeryn, did you bring those grenades?"

There was a small, gasping sound from Rygel. He looked up at Crichton, blinking as if he had just awakened from a long sleep.

"Charrids! Here? How can this be?" he mumbled.

"Don't know, but we want to _not_ be here – I know that." Crichton said.

"No." Rygel said sharply. "I must find Bishaan! Whatever his flaws, he would never allow those monsters here."

"Ryg!" Chiana hissed, "This place is crawling with Charrids. We'd never make it!"

Rygel climbed back into his sled. "I must try, I will not abandon my people to the Charrids."

"Rygel, wait!" Crichton made an ineffectual grab for Rygel, but he hovered higher. He darted out and across the corridor. Crichton half rose to follow. He felt something hit him in the back. He fell and felt a warm body land on top of him. He struggled to rise.

Then the corridor exploded.

Bits of white hot shrapnel rained down around him. He pushed himself into the floor and shielded his head with his arms. Gradually the maelstrom died down.

He looked up at Aeryn, his head still swimming. "What..."

Aeryn rose to her feet and offered him a hand. "Grenade. Did you like it?"

"I love you."

"That's nice." Aeryn looked down at her leg. She grimaced in displeasure, and without visible sign of discomfort, yanked a twisted piece of metal out of her thigh. She examined the bloodstained shrapnel for a moment, then tossed it aside. "Where's Rygel?"

Crichtons eyes followed the piece of metal, then returned to her leaking leg. She'd shielded him with her own body, he realised. He really wished she'd stop doing things like that.

"He ran off - well floated off. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. What do you mean he ran off? Why didn't you stop him?"

"I tried!" Crichton said defensively, "He said something about finding Bishaan."

"Well we have to stop him, that's suicide." Aeryn said flatly.

"Aeryn," Chiana pulled herself to her feet, brushing dust out of her hair. "the inner palace is filled with Charrids. They've got an army in there. There's Scarrens too."

Aeryn wheeled on her. "Well what do you suggest, that we abandon him?"

"Of course not, I just thought I'd point out how completely insane we all are." Chiana picked up a pulse rifle and grinned.

"What about a distraction?" Crichton said thoughtfully.

"What do you have in mind?" said Aeryn.

"How many of those grenades do you have left?"

"Five. Why?"

"Can you set them to a delayed explosion?"

"No." Aeryn paused, "But I can set a pulse pistol overload, that will detonate the grenades with it."

"Perfect. We make a big bang. Soldiers come running to see what all the noise is. We get a free run to the throne room. What do you think?"

"I think you've outdone yourself."

"Thank you honey."

"No, she means its the worst plan you've _ever_ come up with." Chiana cut in.

Crichton glared. "They're Charrids! They're not exactly Mensas best and brightest! Well have either of you got a better plan?"

"We ambush some Charrids, steal their uniforms and just walk into the throne room." Chiana shrugged.

Crichton paused reluctantly. "Ok, that is a better plan."

A brief scuffle and a change of clothing later, they arrived at the throne room.

"Alright," Crichton whispered after a couple of soldiers had passed. "We don't know what to expect in there, but you can bet Bishaan will be heavily guarded and won't be pleased to see us. Ready?"

"Don't these Charrids ever bathe? Its like a sewer in here!" Chiana complained.

"Good. Lets go."

Contrary to expectations, the throne room was dark. There were no guards, and the throne itself, raised up on a dais, was conspicuously empty. They wandered around, nonplussed.

Crichton heard a panicked shriek. He turned.

Chiana was crouched down. She picked something up. It was Rygel's throne sled. It too was empty.

It was covered in what looked suspiciously like Hynerian blood.

Crichton felt his heart sinking. He took a few steps towards Chiana.

The doors swung open. A couple of Charrids charged in. They levelled their weapons at the trio.

"Identify yourself." one growled.

Two pulse blasts rang out. Two more Charrids became ex-Charrids.

Aeryn pulled off her helmet. "Frell." she statedas she shook out her black hair. "I guess that out covers blown?"

Chiana let out an animal like howl of rage. She tore her helmet off and hurled it across the room. She clutched Rygel's sled to her like a mother holding her baby.

Crichton looked away uneasily. "Any idea how we get out of here now?" he said.

Aeryn shrugged, "Grenades?"


	7. Chapter 7

Rain ran down Sikosu's face. She lay on her stomach, back arched and head pulled back, trying not to breath as the knife pressed to her throat.

She blinked, trying to clear mud and water from her eyes. She could vaguely make out the shape as someone crouched down in front of her.

"What do we have here?" the person echoed his Charrid companion.

Sikosu started to swallow, then stopped herself just in time. She settled for licking her lips, which were strangely dry despite the deluge.

"My name is Sikozu Svala Sha -" she stopped at the knife pricked against her throat.

"I don't care who you are. I want to know _what _you are."

Sikosu stopped to think, despite her position. _What you are? _She looked up, trying to make out features. Scales, bald head. A native. But there was something else, a certain expression...

Still she paused. She winced as the Charrid yanked her hair meaningfully. She had only two options here, one of which would certainly leave her dead in this alleyway. But still she hesitated.

Finally, praying to deities she didn't believe in that she was right, she rolled one eye back in its socket.

Biloid, she had as good as said. A long damp moment passed as she waited to see if she had just signed her own death warrant.

She felt the Charrid release her hair and she fell helplessly forwards into the mud. It was less than dignified treatment, but at least the Charrid had the presence of mind to remove the knife first.

Sikosu rose to her feet cautiously, wiping mud from her face. She looked warily at her two assailants.

They returned her stare unapologetically. Without blinking and without speaking, both of them rolled an eye back.

She allowed herself a sigh of relief. That was the problem with a highly secretive underground resistance. It was so hard to meet new people.

She'd activated the transponder which sent out a signal that in theory would only be detectable to other biloids. All she had to do then was wait and hope.

Of course with all that had happened lately, hope was almost in as short supply as trust.

She'd trusted Scorpius. He'd revealed a side of himself to her that she believed he had shown to none other. Yet at the last he had turned on her, accused her of a betrayal he should have known she was incapable of.

Yes she had sent information to Akhna, but only to further her own objectives. Objectives she had thought he shared.

And yet... and yet he had left her alive. Scorpius never did anything without a reason.

She was determined to discover that reason.

"Why have you contacted us?" asked the native Angarian – that is, the biloid that was created to appear native.

There were a thousand different races under Scarran subjugation. And so there were a thousand different faces to the resistance, all created with the sole purpose of one day ending Scarran rule. The Kalish had been subjegated by the Scarrans for so long that they had forgotten how to fight. So they created a race to do their fighting for them.

"I need your help." Sikosu said.

The Angarian frowned. As replies went it answered his question perfectly without telling him anything.

"Hey! Whose there!"

A light shone down the alleyway, highlighting droplets of oily rain. Sikosu could just about make out bulky figures behind it.

"Scarran militia!" the Charrid snarled. "Quickly, follow us!"

Sikosu ran half blind through the rain. She heard boots pounding close behind her, but she resisted the desire to turn. She already knew what she would see anyway. The Scarrans employed indigenous peoples from worlds too far out or unproductive to warrant Charrid soldiers. That did not mean the militia troops would be any less brutal of course, quite the opposite. The primary requirement for the position was someone who would not only bludgeon their own grandmothers to death for a few crindar, but would actively enjoy it.

They splashed round a corner. Fortuitously tenacity, persistence and basic intelligence were not highly prized qualities for the militia. It didn't take them long for the sound of pursuit to die away in the narrow streets.

They ducked into a seemingly random doorway. After a moments hesitation, Sikosu followed.

Inside was gloomy, in a way that failed to hide the grime. Several dozen sets of eyes focused on her as she walked through the door, then returned to their drinks.

Self consciously, she shuffled through the dingy bar. She caught sight of her companions, already seated on low stools around a wooden table. She moved to join them.

The Charrid looked up and grinned unpleasantly.

"Drinks?" it leered, pouring a few coins onto the sticky table.

Sikosu paused for a moment, privately seething. Then she swept the coins up and stalked back to the bar.

As she stood crammed between large, stinking clientèle, failing to be served by the hulking green creature, her mind wandered. Anything to get away from the rest of her.

As usual however it returned to the one place she didn't want to contemplate.

_Scorpius_.

She had respected and cared for him. She had believed he felt the same for her. How then could he cast her aside so casually without seeing the truth?

_She promised the free my people from their servitude!_ Her words, shouted what seemed like a lifetime ago, on a planet decimated at the apex of the war between the Peacekeepers and Scarrans.

Her words, shouted in a desperate attempt to justify herself. True as far as they went. She couldn't say the words she wanted to. _Yes she was a spy. Yes she sent information to the Scarrans. Some of it was even true. _The war could never have been won by force of arms, so instead she had convinced the Scarrans that she had defected. The power hungry Akhna had been only too willing to accept the traitor – anything that would have given her an advantage in her inevitable play for power. The information she had delivered had been mostly accurate, it had to be, the Scarrans were not completely stupid after all. It only took the smallest seed of a lie to cause the Scarran war effort inevitable harm, however.

She had wondered why she had not informed Scorpius of her subterfuge. But the Scarrans had machines that could tear memories screaming from a persons mind – as she had experienced. She could not risk that conversation with Scorpius betraying her.

She had hoped that he could have seen the truth in that moment, even where she could not utter the words. She knew that loathsome creature Gruunslik had been close by, that he would relay her words back to his masters. She would have expected Scorpius to be perceptive enough to consider that there might be two spies!

If she ever expected to return to Kalish territory, she _needed_ the Scarrans to believe her to be loyal to them.

She'd needed Scorpius too, in a different way. She hadn't expected him to discover just enough to leap so willingly to the wrong conclusion.

The giant barman coughed meaningfully. Startled, Sikosu glanced down and saw three glasses, filled with some miscellaneous steaming liquid that made her eyes water. Clearly this was not the sort of place where you questioned what you were drinking. She slid some coins to him, then made her way back to the table.

The other two biloids were deep in earnest conversation as she approached. They stopped abruptly when they saw her.

Sikosu sat. She tried to shake the sense of distaste at placing her fate in the hands of two inferior aliens, especially when one was a Charrid. It wasn't true anyway. They were Kalish created biloids, utterly loyal to the cause - just like her.

"You're a mess." the Charrid noted, sipping its drink.

Sikosu glanced down at her tattered mud encrusted clothing, then realised that was not what it was referring to.

"I shall recover." she stated with confidence she didn't particularly feel. She forced herself to meet its eyes and an involuntary tremble ran through her body.

She took a gulp from her drink as an excuse to look away. She spluttered as the liquid burned her throat.

"What do you want?" the Charrid rasped.

Sikosu frowned, confused by their continued suspicion and hostility. She was a biloid, was she not? That should be more than enough to guarantee her loyalty and their respect.

"I require passage to the Kalish systems." she stated.

"Book yourself on a transport then." the Charrid drained its drink.

Sikosu took a more careful sip of her beverage. It tasted like concentrated sewage, but it warmed her.

"I also require... digression." she said cautiously. _And transports cost money I lack,_ she added to herself.

"Why should we help?" the Charrid grunted.

Sikosu stared speechlessly.

The other alien leaned forwards intently. "Why do you wish to go there?"

"I am biloid!" Sikosu snapped, answering both questions. "I wish to rejoin the resistance. To continue to fight."

"There is no resistance." he said.

"What?" she said perplexed.

"There is no resistance." the Angarian repeated slowly. "Not any more."

Sikosu sat and listened in stunned silence as he continued.

After the Scarrans had been forced to accept a peace treaty with the Peacekeepers, they had turned their attention inwards. They had known for cycles that there was a resistance movement organised against them, but they had never begun to guess the extent or organisation of it. The Scarrans attempts to quell the resistance had been characteristically brutal and clumsy. They stormed in, wiped out a few settlements worth of random people. They never really damaged the resistance, quite the opposite – with each fresh massacre the cause was only strengthened.

Now however things were different. There were no heavy handed massacres, no public executions, not even any arrests. Quietly, but with unerring accuracy, resistance members had simply began to vanish. In a movement that worked in secret, where frequent communication was an unnecessary luxury, over half the resistance had been wiped out before anyone had even realised.

They still had no idea, no way of guessing how the Scarrans had done it, but in a few months the Scarrans had quietly and efficiently dismantled an infrastructure that had taken dozens of cycles to put in place. Now all that remained of the resistance were isolated cells on outer worlds, powerless to prevent the Scarrans from methodically wiping out every last one of them.

"They knew exactly where to strike. They knew exactly _who_ to strike." the Charrid broke in angrily. "They could only have that information if..." he trailed off meaningfully.

Sikosu glared at the implication in his voice. "What are you implying?" she clipped the sentence abruptly, holding back the insult that had almost escaped. Whatever his inference he was still biloid, still kindred. And by the sound of it, there were precious few of those left.

She reached for her drink distractedly, her mind spinning with the implications of what she had learned. Everything she had been created for was gone, in one instant her purpose in life had been destroyed.

It was the second worse feeling she had ever felt.

Maybe she should try going mad for a while? It seemed to work for Crichton. No, she was better than that.

"We must..." she stopped doubtfully, aware of the implausibility of what she was about to suggest. "We must find others. We must regroup. We must rebuild and strike back."

The Charrid seized her wrist, spilling the dregs of her drink across the table. "They could only have found us one way. Somebody told them where to strike!"

"A spy?" Sikosu frowned doubtfully, ignoring the Charrids grip on her arm. She remembered the last time she had uttered those words, on a Scarran Decimator. Then, she had been painfully aware of their truth. Now she doubted it. No biloid would ever betray the cause surely? And even allowing for a spy, she sensed there was something more to this.

"Yes a spy. Someone gave the Scarrans precise information about us. And now, here you are." The Charrid snarled, gripping Sikosu's wrist so hard she could feel the bones grating against one another. "Mysteriously released from Scarran detention, asking us to lead you to the last of the resistance!"

The Charrid dragged her towards him across the table, raising his other fist to strike.

He wasn't really a Charrid. He just looked like one. Really he was a biloid, fighting for the same cause as her. However, Sikosu felt a certain sense of pleasure and vindication as she slammed her free hand into his windpipe. He released her gasping, and she slammed his head into the table.

She glanced around the bar warily as she retook her seat. A few of the cliantelle had glanced over, but in a place like this, no-one seemed overly concerned by anything less than an all out brawl.

Sikosu noticed that the Charrids companion had not even risen from his seat. The Charrid spluttered indigently through his geysering nose.

"I am not your enemy." Sikosu said emphatically. The truth was she had no way of backing up that claim however. She would have thought her status as a bioloid would have placed her above suspicion, but then she'd thought something similar previously.

"Yes, the Scarrans are methodical. Yes, the Scarans are ruthless. But the Scarrans do not possess the subtlety or the finesse to do something like this alone." she said. "If you will allow me, I may be able to help discover the real enemy here."

The scaly alien leaned forward, ignoring his companions distress.

"How?"

Sikosu considered. Her plans to rejoin the resistance were clearly at an end, the remnants of both her lives now in ruins.

She smiled slowly. "I need access to encrypted long range communications."

The Angarian looked questioning. "Possible. To where?"

"Peacekeeper high command."


	8. Chapter 8

Crichton pressed himself up against the remains of a wall and tried not to breathe. The reasons for his voluntary asphyxiation were twofold.

First, there was the smell.

They had now been trapped in the lower levels of the Hynerian Royal City for seven days, and he still wasn't used to the smell. He sincerely doubted he would ever be used to the smell. A city full of Rygels all living, breathing, eating and generally being hugely flatulent should have been enough to make the city tear itself from its foundations and bob up to the surface like a giant rubber bung. They were holed up down in the decaying slums that constituted the lower levels of the city. Here the sewage and waste from the higher tiers filtered down and mixed with the stagnant water that trickled in slowly from the ocean in a non ending battle as giant machinery pumped it back out.

Gradually, the ocean was winning the battle. Imperceptibly over centuries, the city sunk into the ocean floor and new levels were built above to replace them. There were dozens of levels below them that were totally submerged, no-one knew how quite many. Down and down stretched tier after tier, becoming increasingly maze like as the pressure crushed them together. They stretched down so far that even Hynerians could not stand the overwhelming pressure. But there were rumours – or maybe the right word would be legends, sub-aquatic ghost stories of creatures that lived even down there in the black, squeezing darkness.

There was of course a second reason that Crichton was trying not to breathe. The soldiers that were poised to discover his impromptu hiding place were that second reason.

Hynerian soldiers. The first time Crichton had seen them waddling along, struggling to carry their oversized armaments, his initial impulse had been point and laugh. That had lasted right up until he had seen them in action.

Wide, deep canals ran along Hynerian street, where in any other city there would be roads. Hynerians on land were undignified, ungainly creatures, forced to rely on their stubbly little legs or in the richer Hynerians cases, hovering sleds similar to Rygel. Hynerians in water were another matter entirely.

A Hynerian soldier, even laden with full body armour and a weapon, could swim far faster than a man could run. It was a curiously terrifying prospect, all you would see was dark shapes streaking towards you then the water would explode in a fountain and in tandem the soldiers leaped out of the water like the ugliest, deadliest dolphins imaginable.

At the apex of their leap, they would open fire. If - like most people, you stood gaping in amazement for the two seconds or so this took to happen, it would almost certainly be the last two seconds of your life. Crichton was lucky, it had only cost him the use of his left leg for a few weeks. Assuming that he lived that long of course.

As they had fled the royal palace that first day, hounded first by Charrids, then far worse by the local soldiers, Crichton had thought they were dead a dozen times over.

Oddly, it was Noranti who had saved them. She and Jothee had arrived several days prior to Crichton and the others. While Jothee had concentrated on the task at hand, sabotaging the power generators, Noranti had wandered seemingly aimlessly, mixing with disarming friendliness with the local populace. After two days it seemed she knew everything there was to know about the seedier underside of the city.

She and Jothee had reconnected with them somewhere in the industrial section of the city, where Crichton, Aeryn and Chiana had been holed up desperately trying to avoid the closing forces. Crichton wasn't certain how – he'd been a little hazy due to blood loss at this point, but by using some powder or blowing her nose at them or just shouting "They're over there!" and pointing the wrong way, she provided a distraction allowing them to evade capture for the moment.

She had led them down through progressively more dilapidated and sparsely populated areas. There she had met up with a man (Crichton was vague on this point, he wasn't certain whether it was a man with three heads, or three men with one body) who treated her like an old friend. He'd given them some supplies and a relatively accurate map of the ever changing lower levels.

They'd made there way further down, alternately running, skulking, wading and swimming. Gradually they'd been forced to do more and more of the latter two, but slowly the pursuit died away.

Noranti explained as they went. Crichton could remember almost nothing of their flight except the pain and exhaustion, but strangely enough he could remember her explanation.

The lowest levels still accessible were like a constantly shifting maze now. The main streets and most of the buildings had long ago collapsed under the pressure, and all that was left now was a warren of narrow streets and alleyways. Sometimes parts of the surviving structure would collapse or flood, sometimes water would drain away as ancient pumps were bought back to life, revealing whole sections of the city lost for centuries.

There wasn't much down there any more. Anywhere remotely accessible had been picked clean of valuables cycles ago. So the scavengers were obliged to look for those places not accessible. There were rumours of workshops, markets, mansions cut off somewhere in that vast waterlogged maze containing vast riches.

Of course, no-one ever seemed to find much, but for those desperate enough to try - hope could never be dampened even by an ocean.

And there were people like Norantis friend, ready to provide relatively up to date blueprints of the known structures, as well as breathing apparatus to those not at home in an aquatic environment. For a small fee, of course.

Crichton shifted his injured leg. Under Norantis incredibly gross but effective administrations it was mostly healed now. He could walk on it well enough, but he doubted he would be able to manage much more. Unfortunately, the soldiers who were closing in on him were unlikely to slow down to wait for him.

_Stupid. _He berated himself. After six days cooped up in one little room with little to do but heal, boredom had driven him to take action. As per usual, it had been precisely the wrong action.

For the last two days, he had been protesting that he was well enough to join the other in their forays out of their hideout. The hideout consisted of the top floor of a flooded house. Of course, this was a Hynerian house, he had to crawl around the place on all fours. The tiny house was littered with the decaying remnants of furniture, all at too small a scale to be anything but a constant reminder of their discomfort.

And their boredom. Crichton had found what looked suspiciously like an antiquated TV, but it would only broadcast static and once, he was sure he was going mad and had imagined it, an advertisement for Guinness extra cold. While the ground level and the street it led out to were completely flooded, there was a vent in a wall through which relatively fresh air still flowed. He envied it, at least it could flow back out when it realised what a dump it had found. He was stuck here.

For six days the others had been periodically leaving their hideout to return with what food they could steal and a few other mediocre supplies, but they were still no closer to escape. There was no way while they were still being hunted that they could reach one of the docking ports and steal a ship.

They were trapped. Now however, Crichton was trapped in a slightly more urgent trap. He risked a glance up out of his hiding place, hoping against hope that they had given up and gone away.

A blast removed a fair sized chunk of wall and half deafened him. _That's a no then_.

He was trapped in an abandoned building that looked like it had at one point been a shop. Although anything of value had been stripped long ago, long low counters ran along the floor. As long as he stayed close to the floor, Crichton remained relatively safe. The soldiers were willing to wait patiently outside for him to either come out and be shot, or stay in and starve to death.

Patience had never been one of his strong points. After the sixth day of maddening boredom, waiting for the others, he'd resolved to give them a practical demonstration that he was well enough again. He'd hobbled and swum his way out of the small room, down the stairs and along the flooded alley, up to the broken hole in the ceiling that was almost invisible from above. He'd set out in the direction he'd guessed they had took.

Of course, the soldiers had guessed the same thing.

"Commander Crichton, are you there?"

Several shots scorched the counter above Crichton at the sound. He scurried desperately away on all fours moments before the counter collapsed under the barrage and the spot where he had crouched moments before was turned into a bubbling crater.

"Pilot? How are you – no, never mind!" Crichton whispered frantically, "I need your help. I need you to be quiet but hold the line for say... twenty microts. Then make some noise. Ok?"

There was silence from the comms.

"Good!"

Cricton crawled on his belly across the ground, ignoring the sharp pieces of rubble that bit into his arms.

"Commander? Ah – what would you like me to -" A volley of shots peppered the ground. One of them turned the discarded comms into a small puddle of metal.

Crichton threw himself through the window and rolled blindly, expecting at any moment to feel blast searing his flesh. He felt as shots narrowly missed him. He fired his own response in the general direction of the fire as he sprinted towards the corner.

With a last burst of terror induced speed he dived round the corner. He felt like his heart was on the verge of exploding, but he kept running until his knees gave out and he fell unfeelingly to the ground.

After a while, he looked up. It was quiet, excepting the pounding of his heart. He guessed his pursuers had lacked the terror fed adrenaline surge to keep up with him. He'd had a lot of experience running for his life in the last few years.

The found his way back, limped his way back, and swum his way back to their hated hide out. He was disappointed but not surprised to find the others had already returned. He slunk in guiltily, almost cringing when he saw Aeryn. She wasn't likely to actually kill him for ignoring her command to stay hidden. That would be far too easy.

She looked up at him, her face blank.

"Alright, Aeryn." he decided to et in first. "I know what you're going to say. Yes, I'm an idiot. You knew that when you married me. I -" he trailed off, waiting for the verbal abuse to begin. The others were watching him sympathetically.

"John..." Aeryn said softly. She lowered her eyes and held out her hand.

He looked down, confused. He saw the object she was holding.

"Oh, right!" he said with sudden enthusiasm at his forgotten reprieve, "Pilot contacted me! He must have spoken to you guys too."

He looked around at their worried faces, then back at Aeryn who was sitting completely still, staring blankly. An feeling of uncertain dread began to trickle through him.

"Pilot, you there?" he said.

"I am, Commander." came the immediate response.

"That's great! Its good to hear your voice." Crichtons elation was tempered by the looks the others were still giving him.

"And you as well Commander."

"How did you manage to get through to us, I thought the comms couldn't reach us down here?"

"I received assistance from someone. He was able to boost the signal."

Crichton frowned. They had made precious few friends over the years, and the chances of a good Samaritan passing by and deciding to help out the dangerous fugitives seemed improbable, especially considering the lives they led. "Assistance? He? He who, Pilot? Who is helping you?"

"That would be me." declared a soft voice.

Crichton felt his blood turn to ice mid heart beat. He knew that voice. It was a voice that he had sincerely hoped he would never hear again, yet still every night while he slept it whispered in his ear, promising his hopes were mere dreams, then turning his dream to nightmares. It was a voice he dreaded and hated and knew almost as well as his own. It was a voice that had come to embody all the demons that still haunted him, that in his battered soul he secretly believed he would never truly be free of.

"Scorpius."


	9. Chapter 9

Crichton strode back and forth across the cramped room, as if his rage and fear could be converted into momentum. Conservation of energy one thing. Conservation of family was everyhting.

"He has our son!" he yelled.

Chiana gave him a pitying look. Aeryn gave him a blank look that he recognised. It was one she wore when it hurt too much to feel, so instead she locked her emotions away somewhere safe, seething somewhere under the surface, ready to explode outwards at the right time, at the right target.

_Scorpius_.

The name was an anathema. The man was a plague. A blight. A curse.

Always he came back to haunt him. Inevitably death followed. He was worse than Satans lawyer.

_Scorpius._

Six months now, he'd convinced himself he was free. He'd pretended to himself he'd never have to hear that voice again, never have to look into those emotionless eyes again. For six months he'd known that this day would come, because fate was always standing right behind, breathing down his neck, just waiting for him to drop the soap.

"That bastard has our son!"

"Crichton I -"

"_What?"_

"I'm not defending Scorpius. I know the things he's done, what he's put all of you through." Jothee said. "But from what I understand, he never acts without a purpose. Why would he harm your son?"

Crichton glared at Jothee. "I don't know. Here's an idea – why don't we _not_ sit around and wait to find out!"

"You're being paranoid. Lets hear what he has to say before -" Jothee began.

The young Luxan was bigger than Crichton. Age would add bulk to his frame and make what Crichton did now impossible – even fuelled by desperate rage, but right now Crichton lifted him up and slammed him against the wall.

He looked calmly Crichton in the eye, yet a trace of the barely tethered anger that burned in all Luxans was fighting to break through.

"He's right."

Crichton looked around. Aeryn hadn't spoken since he'd returned. She'd simply shut in on herself, like a mollusc waiting until the universe was not so unbearably painful. She looked up at him now, her face emotionless, her voice flat. Her expressionless face glowed with feeling she somehow kept trapped screaming soundlessly just behind her eyes.

The look in her eyes could burn through the heart of a star. If D'Argo was harmed, Scorpius better have something _really big_ to hide behind. The whole galaxy might not be big enough.

For just an instant, Crichton felt almost sorry for Scorpius.

He lowered Jothee gently. "What do you want, Scorpius?" he said as calmly as he could.

There was a long pause during which Crichton could almost see the reptilian smile as it crossed Scorpius' face.

"What do I want? I simply want to reunite a child with his parents."

Crichton clenched his teeth.

"Can you help us, " Jothee said.

"I believe so. Your current predicament is primarily caused by your inability to reach a ship. However, I can bring a ship to you."

"And what is the price for this... assistance?" Crichton said quietly.

"There is no price, John. Although in time I may ask - well, that is a discussion for a later time."

"What about Rygel?" Chiana said suddenly.

"The Dominar? I believe he is being held in a nearby orbital facility. If we act in a timely fashion, you may yet save him."

"Give us a moment Scorpy, someone's on the other line." Crichton cut the transmission before Scorpius could protest.

"Do we trust him?" Jothee asked impatiently.

"No!" Chiana exclaimed.

"Do we have a choice?" Noranti queried.

"We find a frelling choice!" Chiana scrambled to her feet in agitation. "The last time he 'helped', it got D'Argo killed! Whose it going to be time time? You want to volunteer, wrinkles? Or you Jothee?"

"Chiana -"

"You know I'm right! We can't trust him, and whatever happens we'll be better off without him, waiting for him to stab us in the back."

"We don't know that..."

"Yes we do! You think he's here by accident? You think he was just passing through and he decided to help? He'll use us, and he'll betray us. That's what he does!"

"Well, anythings got to be better than sitting around here, waiting for the Hynerians to blast us out or starve us out. Is Scorpius worse than that?"

"Yes!"

"He has our son."

Aeryn raised her head. She spoke quietly but firmly.

"Scorpius is not here to help us. He is not our ally and he is certainly not our friend. But right now he is the one holding my son, and I am trapped down here. We will do exactly what he says, exactly as he asks. But if he so much as touches D'Argo, I will kill him."

"So," Crichton finally broke the uncomfortable silence that followed Aeryns ultimatum. "Do we want to vote about this, or shall I call Hannibal Lector back and tell him to send us a taxi?"

There was a confused pause as they considered that.

"Right. Scorp – you still there?"

"I am here Crichton." There was a faint hint of irritation in the half-Scarrans voice. Scorpius did not like being kept waiting.

"So, what's the plan? You got a command carrier up there? A fleet of them? You gonna send in the clones?"

"I am alone, John."

Chaina laughed. "What happened, you got bored of licking Grazas boots?" she taunted.

"I have in fact resigned my commission." Scorpius said calmly.

"And you haven't got Peacekeeper high command chasing you down again, have you?" Crichton said.

"No. My goals have diverged from those of the peacekeepers, but I left their service with an honourable discharge."

"And what are those goals?" Crichton said suspiciously.

"You say you are alone. What can you do to help us then?" said Aeryn.

"I believe my assistance will be crucial. Left to your own devices, you are helpless, forced to hide until the Hynerians hunt you down at their leisure and kill you. I can provide access to a marauder. I may well also be able to provide a ...distraction to aid in your escape."

"What kind of distraction?" Jothee said.

"One of sufficient magnitude to insure your survival. More you do not need to know." Scorpius stopped, as if gauging their reactions from the doubtful silence.

"Make no mistake. This is your only option if you wish to leave this planet alive."

Crichton glanced questioningly at his companions. Jothee shrugged doubtfully. Chiana refused to even meet his gaze. Aeryn nodded slightly.

"I think we have to do this, John." she murmured gently.

"Fine." he sighed. "Fine, we're in." he said in a louder voice. "What do you want us to do?"


	10. Chapter 10

Scorpius felt a familiar thrill of excitement and a dark sense of pleasure as the Hynerian died.

The pitiful, diminutive creature thrashed wildly for a few moments after he slid his knife across its throat. He held the creature down easily despite its death throes, one hand clamped over its mouth as its life gradually subsided.

He dragged the corpse a short distance into concealment. He looked down at the small body dispassionately. Part of his, a tiny part that to his astonishment continued to exist deep within him felt revulsion at the sight.

A much greater part wanted to bellow and roar, to loose himself in the blood-lust, to bater and smash the body beyond recognition then tear this whole miserable city to pieces with his bare hands.

It was a side of him he despised with good reason. Long ago, he had utterly rejected the Scarran side of himself. Long ago he had learned to counter the instinctive rage with cold, calm logic, to counter brutish ferocity with unbending self control.

And yet ironically, Scorpius knew that he own his continued survival in large part to his hated lineage. A lifetime of fighting his own unspeakable impulses had made any external conflicts seem paltry by comparison. He had survived again and again where no other could, not in spite of his heritage, but because of it. Conquering his own nature had made him strong beyond measure, and he had little time to question the price.

He wiped his blade on the dead Hynerians tunic, then rose to a crouch. He was willing to admit that he was not above a little plagiarism, where appropriate. Crichton and his companions strategy had been to sabotage one of the cities power plants. It was a strategy Scorpius approved of and intended to repeat.

Of course, they had simply desired to shut down the power for a short duration. He intended do do quite the opposite.

He slipped soundlessly past the remaining guards.

Scorpius gripped the metal grill and heaved. After a second of resistance, the rusted metal gave and with a squeal of protest the grate opened. He took an involuntary step back.

_Something_ emerged from the darkness. The creature was unrecognisable, covered with unnameable slime. The stench that permeated it was an almost physical force. Rotting corpses would get up and cross the road to avoid that smell.

The creature focused on him. It growled wordlessly. Scorpius tried not to smile.

"Hello Crichton." he said.

Crichton opened his mouth to speak, but unfortunately speaking involved breathing. He doubled over, gagging and retching.

Scorpius waited as the rest of the group emerged, dripping slime.

Chiana, or at least he assumed the smallest slime monster to be Chiana, scraped some sludge out of her hair.

"What kind of plan means we have to crawl through the frelling Hynerian sewers?" she complained.

Scorpius tried to appear sympathetic. For her, raw sewage was up. "My apologies. It was the only way I could get you here undetected.

"Undetected! Anyone with a nose in five miles will know we're here! I smell worse than Noranti!"

"I'll have you know its a natural musk and many males find it extremely attractive!"

"Where is here, Scorpius?"

Scorpius marvelled. Even trailing the worst effluence from possibly the most unpleasant species in the galaxy, Aeryn Sun had a calm and dignified aura. An expert at masking his own emotions, he recognised the presence of a true master.

"We are in a warehouse." he said.

"That's great, Grasshopper." Crichton gasped, finally able to speak, "We're being chased by pretty much everyone on the planet. Lets add a little breaking and entering to our portfolio! Maybe we can smash some windows and mug some old ladies too."

Scorpius regarded Crichton levelly. He knew from personal experience what a formidable adversary the human could be. He had seen his tenacity, his quick thinking and creativity, his stubborn will to survive countless times. He knew not to underestimate him.

But at times, it was so very easy to forget.

"We could shoot Scorpius?" Chiana said hopefully.

Crichton obviously took his pause to mean he had taken offence. "What's wrong Scorp, you want a hug?"

"I am here in order to save your lives." Scorpius snarled, stepping back warily. "I am not the one being hunted down by the Hynerians, accused of assassinating their Dominar. I have devised a method to conceal your presence and allow you to leave this planet. I apologise for your discomfort, but I deemed it a small price for your survival."

"We're accused of what now?"

"You do not know? Dominar Bishaan has been found dead, evidently murdered. I would guess that he outlived his use to the Scarrans and your clumpy attempt at a coup provided the perfect cover."

"You seem to know a little to much about what's happening here." A tall, lanky swamp creature, complete with tentacles, observed.

Scorpius shifted his attention to Jothee. Of all the crew of Moya, he knew least of him. He knew he was a half Luxan, son of the late D'Argo. He he had endured much of his childhood as a slave, and had spent his late adolescence serving in the Luxan military. He had resigned his commission without explanation immediately after the war had ended, and now chose to spend his time with a group of fugitives. From what he had gathered, the half-Luxan had inherited his fathers bravery, and his intelligence he must have acquired from his mothers side. With his fathers death, Scorpius wondered what he was still doing with this gang of misfits. wondered

"I know enough to know you require assistance. As to the rest, well, I have been investigating suspected links between the Scarrans and the Hynerians for some time now. Your arrival at this time was was merely a fortuitous coincidence."

"Yeah, for who? This stuff is congealing you know."

"Shut up Chiana. Where are we Scorpius? What are we doing here – and where is here?"" said Aeryn.

"We are in a warehouse. This facility houses goods which are shipped both into and out of this city. With care, you may find yourselves as a part of the latter."

"So, you're planning the old switcheroo?"

Scorpius paused again for just a moment. He wondered if Crichton realised quite how much his outlandish speech irritated him. He caught Crichton s eye for just a moment. Almost certainly, he concluded.

"Precisely so. I have purchased a large quantify of Hynerian fungal deposits," - deposited by a less evolved – if that was conceivable – cousin of the dominant species, nonetheless prized when dried and smoked as a intoxicant and an aphrodisiac. Only intelligent life could be so creatively stupid. "When it comes to be picked up, I intend for you to be the true shipment."

"That's your master plan Scorpius? You're slipping..."

"Perhaps. But speed is if the essence if you wish to rescue the Dominar."

"Where is Rygel?" said Chiana intently.

"As I said, he is being held by the Scarrans in a facility orbiting this planet. As the Scarran presence here is still strictly informal, it has been disguised as a large oil freighter. Their greatest defence is that they believe that their presence is It is only minimally guarded. I believe an assault may be plausible. If of course, you are willing?"

"We're willing. The question is, why are you, Scorpius? What do you get from helping us?" Crichton said.

Scorpius sighed. "After all we've been through John, you still don't trust me?"

"Let me think about that one... no."

"Very well." Scoripus smiled. "As I said, I have been observing the Scarrans for some time. After the war ended, I knew that the Scarrans would never be satisfied with the truce they had been forced into. High command however did not share my concerns. In fact they were more than willing to turn a blind eye to the Scarrans, to convince themselves that the threat was no more. My actions during the war however, were not forgotten. At the very least my presence was a constant reminder of their own failures during that period, my insistence that they were mistaken in their belief that the threat had passed was taken as an insult. Some even believed that we could have won the war, that my support of your use of the wormhole weapon constituted a betrayal of the Peacekeepers. Shortly after the war was ender I was relegated to overseeing an antiquated research facility, close to the Hynerian border.

"It was by chance that I intercepted Scarran transmissions into Hynerian territories. I reported this activity, and was ordered to cease my investigation immediately. It is at this point I resigned my commission and continued my investigations privately.

"What I discovered in the past quarter of a cycle has far surpassed my greatest fears. The Scarrans have altered their focus from a military to a covert war. They have infiltrated the Peacekeepers, the Luxans, and of course the Hynerians. I believe they are replacing key figures with biloid replicas. Once they are in place, I would surmise that they intend to attack, to complete what they began."

"To take over the galaxy." Jothee surmised.

"Can't they get a new hobby?" Chiana said.

"Unfortunately I require proof of this conspiracy. I need to capture one of of these biliod agents - alive."

"Why alive?" said Aeryn.

"Because upon its own termination, biloids release a toxin which quickly breaks down the body, effectively removing the evidence. I have not been able to get close enough to any of them to attempt to capture them. That is why I came to Hyneria."

"Why Hyneria?"

"Because unique amongst the major powers, Hyneria is a monarchy. In all other forms of government, power is shared. The Scarrans do not need to replace everyone in the government, they need only to replace a few key figures. But here, power is not shared. All authority comes straight from the Dominar himself. If the Scarrans wish to effectively control Hyneria, they must replace the Dominar. The Scarrans could coerce him to help them, even to place a contingent of soldiers in the palace itself. But until recently, he was too well protected and too visible to be replaced."

"Until we showed up."

"Yes. I would expect that your friend Rygel will return to reclaim his throne soon without your help. But he will be curiously amenable to Scarran suggestion."

"So you help us rescue him -" Crichton prompted.

"And I get the biloid."

"Something for everyone."

"Precisely."


	11. Chapter 11

_Here we go again. _Crichton thought ruefully. _Trusting Scorpius. When does that ever end well?_

He had to admit that the half-breed had saved them on Hyneria though. There had been a few long hours crammed together in a pitch black cargo container, trying not to breath, then there had been a jolt and a sense of vertigo as the container was loaded onto Scorpius' transport pod, which he had borrowed from Moya.

Speaking of Moya, they had made a brief stop on their ship / home / travelling companion to rearm, and for Aeryn and Crichton to check on the baby. D'Argo was still there, still gurgling to himself in pleasure at Pilots company. Pilot was relieved by their return, and immediately pledged that he and Moya would do whatever was needed to help rescue Rygel. He looked disappointed when they told him that his task this time was to sit and wait, to keep their home and their child safe. Pilot was usually wholly satisfied with his lot in life, but his frustration that he could not leave Moya to help them was obvious. They assured him as best they could, then were ready to leave.

Except the stop was made slightly longer by everyone's desperate need to bathe.

They set out again, this time in a marauder Scorpius had bought with him. While certainly not an expert, Crichton had certain suspicions about that ship, which were strengthened by the fact that the freighter seemed completely oblivious to their approach.

Crichton peered out at the vessel as they approached it. He had to admit, it didn't look much like a secret Scarran facility. Which was the point, he guessed. It looked dilapidated, it looked barely space worthy. It looked like someone had gathered up the rusting remains of a bunch of ships and thrown them together at random. If cavemen could build a spaceship, it would look like this.

"Are you sure we've got the right place?"

"Quite sure, John." Scorpius said distractedly.

"Something wrong?" said Aeryn.

"No. Despite its appearance, that vessel has highly advanced sensors. While our ship should appear invisible, I must minimise our power emissions as we approach."

"Should appear invisible? How?" Crichton frowned when Scorpius didn't immediately reply. "Hey, Scorpius, answer me you ugly freak."

"I'm sorry. As I said, I was assigned to a research base. This stealth marauder was one of the few useful projects. I appropriated it shortly before resigning my commission."

Chiana laughed and clapped Scorpius' shoulder. "You stole it? I'm almost impressed."

"However, every time I am forced to fire the engines to adjust our course, we risk detection. Which is why this requires my _undivided_ _attention_."

"Oh." Chiana removed her hand.

Slowly, silently now, they gilded closer to the freighter. This close, Crichton could see small details that hadn't been apparent to him. While the freighters surface was pitted and scarred, seemingly cobbled together out of random junk like a patchwork metal quilt, that cleverly masked the fact that the ship was unusually well armoured for a simple ore freighter. And while for the most part the ship looked like it was falling apart, it artfully disguised the sizeable engines which were in very good repair.

There was a jolt as they docked with the freighter. Here again the marauder had a slight advantage over a transport pod. They didn't need to find a landing bay or a docking port, it could just land on the hull and burn a way through.

They stormed their way out onto the freighter. They had enough armaments between them for a medium sized army. Crichton was slightly disappointed to find that they faced only an empty corridor. There weren't any alarms blaring, no cries of panic. In the distance, he could hear something dripping, and Some kind of rodent regarded them suspiciously, then scurried unhurriedly away in search of space cheese.

"Alright Scorpius, where are they holding Rygel?" Aeryn said.

"I am uncertain." Scorpius looked around, "However, I would surmise the holding cells to be... this way."

They made their way down the corridor. Crichton had to admit, if he hadn't known this was a Scarran vessel only disguised as an ancient disintegrating freighter, said disguise would have completely fooled him. The walls were dripping with grease and were so rusty he could probably put his fist through them. The lighting flickered fitfully, like it couldn't really be bothered to illuminate the filthy passageway. The Charrid who had just ambled around the corner was – wait, that's not right...

Cricthon opened his mouth to utter a warning. The astonished Charrid stood gaping for an instant which cost him his life. Several pulse blasts rang out and the Charrid slumped lifelessly to the floor.

"Well, if looks like this is the right place." Noranti said.

Scorpius prodded the corpse with his boot. "We must find the hynerian quickly. Out presence will not remain unobserved for long now."

"Lead the way then Scorp, this is your gig." Crichton gestured imperiously.

They continued on for an indeterminate distance, along winding corridors and through several more unfortunate Charrids. In spite of this, there were still no alarms or armed troops rushing to greet them, but on the other hand, there were no holding cells and no Rygel.

"Ok," Crichton said. "We've been wandering round in circles for half an hour now. So far, we've visited a maintenance bay, the bilges, _two_ refectories and the little boys room. Scorpy, we really weren't planning to take the scenic route."

"I am aware of that John, I simply -"

"Are we lost?"

Scorpius sounded offended. "Of course not -"

"We've been this way before." Chiana said helpfully, pointing at a familiar pattern of mould growing on the wall.

"I am not lost! I am simply unfamiliar with the exact layout of this particular vessel."

"Also in some circles known as lost." Crichton said flatly.

"Well, yes. If you insist."

"Perfect. Anyone got any ideas?"

Faint footsteps echoed down the corridor as another oblivious Charrid drew nearer.

"We could just ask." Jothee suggested.

"What if he doesn't want to tell us?" said Noranti.

Jothee hefted his qualta blade meaningfully. "Then we ask _politely_."

The unlucky Charrid was not very helpful, at least initially. He snarled and blustered and threatened to commit certain actions involving bodily functions and their corpses. He became a lot more helpful when Noranti offered to cut off certain parts which would have made said acts anatomically impossible. The Charrid became very co-operative at that point, he even offered to draw them a map. His new-found generosity went unrewarded however, as Scorpius abruptly ended the conversation by coolly shooting him in the head.

They stared at him in speechless horror. He shrugged, ignoring their wordless recriminations. "We have what we need, shall we go?"

The holding cells were darker and bleaker even than the rest of the ship. Cricthon glanced at Aeryn. Her jaw was clenched, she scanned the shadowy cells with an impenetrable expression on her face that showed nothing of what she was thinking. She had been captured by the Scarrans, she'd been held – tortured for days, aboard a vessel very much like this. He remembered when he'd found her. He found it hard to imagine any torture worse than he'd felt from her absence. He'd been wrong. He'd always secretly believed that Aeryn was slightly indestructible. That illusion had been destroyed when he found the ruins of the strongest woman he'd ever met, a hollow shell, broken in a way he had never believed possible. She had quietly, methodically rebuilt herself without any assistance, alone despite his attempts to help. She'd said his presence was help enough, but the haunted look in her eyes was still sometimes visible. He doubted anyone else could tell the difference that was still there, she still to this day refused to speak with him about what had happened to her.

He tried not to visualise the way Rygel would be after the same experience. As strong as he knew the little Hynerian to be – after all he'd endured over a century as a Peacekeeper prisoner, Crichton still dreaded what he would see. Rygel had become a friend, no matter their differences over the years. What the Scarrans would do – probably had already done to him he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

"_Crichton!_"

Something moved in the gloom. A small shape detached itself from the shadows and moved forwards to the bars.

"Rygel?"

"Thank the gods! Get me out of here Crichton!" Rygel whispered frantically.

"Are you ok?" Crichton searched for a way to open the cell door.

"Of course I'm not ok you idiot. I'm in a Scarran prison! Hurry up and open that frelling door."

"Wait." Scorpius stepped forwards. "The Scarrans have not harmed you?"

"What's he doing here?" Rygel growled.

"Answer the question, your eminence." Scorpius said.

"Not yet they haven't. Now open this door!"

"You think he's the biloid?" said Aeryn.

"I find it strange that he has been held by the Scarrans for nine solar days, yet they have not begun to interrogate him."

"Well how can we tell if he's the real Rygel?"

"What are you blathering about you stupid bitch? Let me out of here!" Rygel shouted furiously.

"There may be a way. Hold out your hand, your excellence." Scorpius said.

"What? Frell you!"

"Do as he says, Sparky."

Grumbling, Rygel extended a stubby hand. Scorpius reached out and caught it with his own. Then with his other hand he drew a knife. He cut a small incision in Rygels palm, the Hynerian complained loudly.

He let a few drops of blood drip onto his own hand, then released Rygel. Delicately, he lifted his bloodstained hand to his lips. He spat. "He is not a biloid." he confirmed.

Crichton found the release for the door. It swung open. "You are one sick puppy Scorp, did anyone ever tell you that?"

Rygel floated out of the cell, clutching his injured hand. "Can we _please_ get out of here now?"

"May I remind you, we still need to locate and capture the biloid replicant." Scorpius said.

"No we don't! We've got Ryg, lets get out of here while we still can." said Chiana.

Scorpius smiled. "My vessel is encrypted to activate only by my voice command. Unless you have arranged alternative transport, we will leave when I am ready."

"Rygel, do you have any idea where this biloid is?" Aeryn said.

"They took me to a room. There was some kind of machine, and then... another me. Handsome devil, although they got the nose wrong." Rygel mused.

"Do you know the way?"

"I think so."

Rygel led them down several corridors. They continued to wind round purposelessly, each hall looking much like the last. As far as Cricthon could tell, they might have been walking in circles. His leg took this time to loudly remind him about the sizeable hole that had been put in it just a few days ago. He limped on stoically.

Aeryn moved closer to him. "Somethings wrong." she murmured.

"What do you mean?"Crichton felt a tingle of electricity as their shoulders touched.

"Doesn't this all seem a little too easy, to you?"

"What?"

"We've just walked onto a Scarran vessel, encountered minimal resistance, rescued Rygel, and now he just happens to know the route directly to our next objective. Doesn't that strike you as slightly unlikely?"

"Maybe we've just been lucky. We're due some good luck." Cricthon muttered doubtfully.

"Do you really believe that?"

"No."

"Me neither. Keep your eyes open."

Aeryn moved away again. Crichtons eyes followed her. His foot caught on something and he stumbled. He caught her amused expression. "Right," he mumbled, "Eyes _open_. Got it."

Rygel stopped at a doorway. "It's in here." he declared.

Crichton peered doubtfully into the room. It was gloomy, verging on dark. In his minds eye, Charrid soldiers lurked in every shadow. "You sure, Ryg?"

"Yes I'm sure Crichton. What are you waiting for. Come on!" Rygel hovered eagerly in the doorway.

Crichton started forwards, but something made him pause. _Since when did Rygel take the lead?_

"What's going on here, Rygel?" he said softly.

"Nothings going on. We need to hurry."

"Where are the guards? Why haven't we been fighting through a battalion of Charrids to get here?" Anthor thought occurred to him. Chiana had found Rygels throne sled abandoned in the throne room on Hyneria. Why would the Scarrans have given him another one? He pointed his gun at the head of the startled Hynerian.

"Who are you, Rygel?"

Rygel looked calmly at the weapon pointed at him. "Surrender now and you have my word you won't be harmed." he said.

Chiana screamed angrily "He's a frelling biloid!".

Scorpius looked puzzled. "I don't think he is... I - " he turned an urgent look towards Crichton. "We must leave here. Immediately!"

There was a look in the half Scarrans eyes that he'd never seen before. It was an expression that didn't seem to fit there. He saw fear there, a look that was bordering on panic.

"_We must go now!_" Scorpius snarled.

"Yeah. Ok, alright boys and girls, its time to go!" Crichton said.

"Too late." Rygel said softly.

Charrid soldiers appeared from both ends of the corridor, guns trained on the fugitives. Several shadowy figures appeared in the darkened room.

"I'm afraid you will not be going anywhere." said a voice. Chiana gasped.

Crichton tried to keep his gun aimed at a dozen different targets at once. "Where's Rygel?" he addressed the shadows.

"The dominar is right there." the voice informed him calmly.

"No," Crichton said slowly. "That's a biloid."

The voice laughed softly. "I am afraid you are mistaken. About a lot of things. We do not need to resort to such... crude methods. Dominar Rygel simply sees things our way now. As you too will soon enough."

The figure stepped forwards. He was flanked by Scarran warriors, but he was not a Scarran. Crichton was dimly aware of a whimper and a clatter as Chiana's pistol fell to the floor. He lowered his own gun helplessly.

The Nebari smiled coldly at them as he waved the Scarrans forwards. Crichton felt almost drunk, he felt like laughing. All along they had been assuming that the Scarrans were the threat, and typically they had stumbled into something ten times worse. He tried to concentrate as he sightlessly felt Charrids seize him. Something else was strange, something about Chianas reaction, before she could have seen the other Nebari.

It took a few moments for the recognition to filter through Crichtons stunned mind. It wasn't just any Nebari they faced, it was someone he had seen before, although they'd never met in person. The Nebari was Chianas brother, Nerri.


	12. Chapter 12

It was dark. It was darker than she had ever known, it was darker than she could imagine, even in the deepest blackest corners of her mind. Chiana knew darkness. She had seen it before, and she had always been able to out stare it.. But not this time. This time the dark wasn't just something external. This time she couldn't beat it any more than she could fight against herself. Always before, no matter how dark things became, she could hold onto that glimmer, that tiny knowledge that at least things could be worse, at least there was still hope, no matter how dim.

This darkness however was a thousand times worse. This wasn't uncertain darkness, this wasn't fear of the unknown. This was certain darkness. This was the terrifying numb black – no, not black. Black was an absolute. Black was _evil_. You knew where you stood with black at least. Even when it wanted to see you dead or broken, evil had passion – evil cared about you in some twisted way. This was a numb grey feeling of despair that she hadn't felt since she had fled her home. This wasn't the fear of death, this was the loss of hope that life was better.

She had known darkness before, she had spent long terrifying hours blind before she had regained her sight, in what now felt like a previous life. This somehow was far worse, this was a darkness that seemed to seep in through her eyes into her mind to shroud every thought with despair. This wasn't just darkness behind the eyes, this was the darkness you'd get when the universe finally dies, when the last star goes cold, when all life has taken its last desperate breath, and hope has succumbed to the void.

In short, she was not having a good day.

She convulsed as another nauseating wave of pain shuddered through her. She would have fallen writhing to the floor if it hadn't been for the restraints that that held her strapped to the chair.

_That was thoughtful of them._

Another thought suggested that it might have been more thoughtful of them if they hadn't poisoned her in the first place. They had injected her with some kind of liquid then left her here, bound to a metal chair in the dark, poison burning its way through her veins. She clenched her jaw, willing the pain away. Every muscle in her body clenched in agony and her mind felt as lethargic as a pregnant leviathan. But it wouldn't kill her, she knew. They never killed anyone, not while they could still be useful. Not while they could still be broken.

She wondered if anyone else felt this way. _Family_. Crichton talked about his word fondly, wistfully, sometimes with a desperate sense of yearning that had consumed him and left him even more irrational than his usual self. Aeryn remembered her time with the peacekeepers fondly, even when her view of the universe had changed so far that she was forced to fight her former people. D'argo had risked everything to save his son, and had never stopped loving him even after he was betrayed by him. Even Rygel too had only wanted to return to his world, the thought had fueled him through a lifetime of imrpisonment and torture. Chiana wondered how that would feel that way. For family, for home to be a source of longing and strength, not a source of loathing and dread. She had sworn again and again that she would not go back, nothing could take her back. Yet soon she would be.

Panic gripped her, she struggled hopelessly in the dark, confined by more than just the straps that held her down and the crippling pain that wracked her. She would have died first! Now it seemed that even that simple choice was being taken away from her by her people.

She blinked through the fog of pain and saw a figure sat across from her, watching sympathetically.

"D'Argo?" she croaked.

He smiled and leaned forwards to stroke her cheek. "Shh..." he murmured, "It's ok Chiana. I'm here."

She felt tears trickle down her face as she tried to smile. "You came back to me." Somehow, she knew something was wrong, she could see the outline of some important memory that eluded her and her exhausted mind failed to grasp.

She let her eyes close, let herself loose herself in his touch. Pain seemed to trickle away like water.

"I've missed you." _Why had she missed him?_

"I'm right here. I love you."

She felt tears on her face. The room still seemed dark, she could only focus on D'Argo, sitting by her. She tried to reach up to him but couldn't for some reason.

"I'm sorry." she said, then wondered why.

"I'll never leave you."

D'argo was here. D'argo was with her. Some tiny part of her was still unsure, but the rest of her yielded willingly to his touch, his voice, his scent. He had come back for her.

"But you left me."

Her eyes flew open. Agony flooded back a thousand times worse, leaving her unable to speak, gasping helplessly for breath.

"You left me to die, Chiana. You ran. You saved yourself and the Charrids tore me to pieces while I was still alive, while I was screaming for mercy,"

She couldn't see him any more, couldn't see anything. But she could still feel his eyes on her, filled with accusation and betrayal.

"No." she whispered desperately.

"Yes." he replied. "But it's ok, Chiana. Because I forgive you."

She felt him close to her again, could feel his breath on her cheek, although she still could not see him.

"I forgive you." he repeated, "I know its not your fault. It's just the way that you are."

She shook her head dumbly. She could hear footsteps as he walked around her, but still could not make him out in the dark. She was blind.

"After all," his voice was light, understanding. "You leave everyone don't you? Me, your brother, your people. All you do is screw everything up then run away, leave the people who care about you to get hurt."

She arched her back as the pain reached a crescendo of unmatched agony. A sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob escaped her lips.

"I forgive you Chiana. But I can never trust you."

Chiana shook her head desperately. _Please, no. I'm not..._

D'Argo laughed. He seemed to understand the words she hadn't said. "Not what? A coward? A thief? A self centred little tralk who only cares about herself? But you are, Chiana. We both know that's all you are, and all you will ever be.

"Just look around you, Chiana. You killed me. Your brother stayed behind to protect you – I don't know what he was thinking, and the Nebari sucked his brains out through a straw for his trouble. Frell, you couldn't even save Rygel! _Tell me Chiana, have you ever done anything right?_"

"I'm sorry..."

"What has that got to do with anything?" D'Argo snapped dismissively, " I already told you Chiana - I forgive you. But you have to take responsibility for your own actions. You can't keep running through your life, blind to all the people you keep hurting. You have to grow up Chiana, accept responsibility. You have to let us... help you."

"I love you." Chiana whispered almost inaudibly.

D'Argo laughed scornfully. "What makes you think you deserve love? No Chiana, what you deserve is... _pain_."

As he said the word, Chiana felt the torment tear through her quaking body. She howled and thrashed mindlessly, a scream of primal hurt and loneliness. But it ended in fury.

She laughed weakly, wildly. "Frell you." she whispered.

"What?" D'Argo's voice said, sounding taken aback.

She laughed again, this time with a little more strength. "I said _frell you!_" she screamed, ignoring the pain it caused her. "You're not him! You're not D'Argo."

D'Argo's voice remained silent.

"My D'Argo would never hurt me." she whispered.

"Very well." the tone was curt, abrupt, clipped. It still sounded like him, but only in the way that a puppet without strings looks like a person.

Chiana blinked painfully as she was blinded by dim light that seared her eyes like fire.. She could vaguely make out a figure enter through the doorway. As it approached, her eyes focused blearily on the cylindrical object being carried.

"I think its time for your next injection." She struggled weakly as the figure leaned over her, smiling kindly. "Don't worry little sister, the pain will be over soon. Remember, we only want to help you."

Chiana screamed soundlessly before the darkness took her again.


	13. Chapter 13

_Crichton lay slumped trembling on the cold floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in desperate denial of the reality he appeared to have found him in. Across from him in the gloom, Stark drooled irritably. He heard footsteps as the Peacekeepers approached and he began to laugh a wild, laugh that dissolved into manic tears._

_Aeryn lay helpless. Hours spent attempting to escape, of denying her circumstances had only helped to bring forward the inevitable. Frustrated, she lay too weak to move as the dry heat sapped her strength and left her trembling with agony and impotent rage._

_Jothee sat huddled, rocking gently in denial. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Agonising images swum still through his mind. Images of Chiana, images of his father. Images of Chiana and his father. It wasn't his fault. He'd never wished his father dead, but a part of him couldn't help but see it as an opportunity. Guilt and in equal measure lust tore through him mercilessly. He slumped helplessly in his cell as he cried, as he saw Chiana scream for him in eustacy with his dead fathers name on her lips._

_Noranti sat propped against the wall, humming to herself tunelessly. After two of her interrogators had left and walked out of airlocks for fresh air, the Nebari had readily concluded that torturing her was about as effective as trying to drown the ocean. _

_Chiana ceaselessly screamed impotent rage tinged with madness out at the darkness. Whatever she saw was beyond her interrogators now. Ghosts in the dark screamed back too loud for anything else to be heard._

Sikosu studied the images and files as dispassionately as she could. She had never considered these people to be her friends but to find one time allies like this still disturbed her in a way that she had not been fully prepared for.

Scorpius, she reminded herself - was here. She could find no record of his interrogation, no sign of his presence. It was puzzling, but then she reasoned, he would clearly be the most important of the prisoners. Such information would likely exceed her current level of clearance and her ability to break deeper into the Nebari records.

It made sense they would conceal him. Clearly he was still aboard. She had arrived two solar days ago. One of the advantages of being a war hero for the wrong side was said sides willingness to accept forged transfer papers at face value.

After Scorpius had refused to answer her attempts to contact him, she had been lost. She had found that he was no longer with the peacekeepers, they in fact had no idea where he had gone after leaving their service. They had tried their utmost to find out. There was no traditional method of resigning Peacekeeper service that did not include also resigning your life – particularly if you stole a prototype ship and happened to blow up an entire research facility on the way out. She wondered if Scorpius had always concealed had such a flare for the dramatic or if his association with the human Crichton had affected him more than she had known. It was a worrying thought.

She had held a gun to grand-chancellor Grazas head to learn about his defection and his last known activities. She had been fully intended to pull the trigger once she had learned all she could, yet some reason she could not fathom a glimpse of the womans offspring in its crib had caused her to hesitate.

She had no experience with children. Her childhood had consisted of a quarter cycle maturing in a vat. Her fledging memories had been seen through the eyes and mind of an adult. She had been unaware that there might even have been anything she might have missed. What little she had seen of children since had reinforced the notion that she had missed nothing of value. Yet somehow, the sight of a dribbling infant screaming for attention so hard its face turned purple had inspired a sense of regret that she could not place – that she did not want to consider.

Idly she toyed with the disk in her palm. Scorpius would find the transmission she had discovered extremely interesting. Enough that he should be willing to spare her life, particularly if she could rescue him from this place. All that was left was to locate him. Yet that information still eluded her.

She did not much like the thought that presented itself. It was desperate, it was unlikely, it was humiliating. But she could not expect to remain here undetected for much longer, and this vessel would soon reach its destination. Scorpius had for some reason again allied himself with this dysfunctional crew of intellectual cripples. There must be a reason. Perhaps they might lead her to him?

She felt irritated - angry even. She was angry at the Scarrans for forcing her to such desperate measures; at the Nebari for amplifying her desperation; and at Scorpius for not averting it. For betraying her by not seeing the truth. And she felt anger enough to surpass everything else, at herself for such desperation, for the weakness that meant she was again forced to rely on the aid of people she knew had no good reason to help.

She could fix it all. She knew she could. It could be the way it had been before. There could be that trust and intimacy between the two of them that there had been. There could again be that sense that she wasn't alone in the universe – that there was another like her at her side.

But for that to happen she had to find him. For that she would do whatever was necessary, even rescue the crew of Moya.

She called up again the ships schematics on the console. It was a waste of time, she had already memorised them, but she still hesitated. A tiny part of her shied away from the inevitable. Strange, she had always believed that when the worst the universe could muster fell on her and began to grind away her soul, this frail part would be the first to be destroyed. Instead those weak, uncertain thoughts grew and grew until she felt as if that she was being suffocated.

_Level four, section J._ She was unable to ascertain which cell held each of them. No matter she decided. Their baffling loyalty to one another would insure that she would have to rescue all of them before they would help her. That meant that she would need to create a diversion, else the security forces would certainly recapture them within moments. She'd transferred to the ship as a waste sanitation officer. Bureaucracy being what it was, that meant she could not access vital systems such as prisoner transfer, flight logs or security protocols, she could access unimportant systems such as engines, venting tunnels, life support and the airlocks. At approximately this time several sections of the ship should be de-pressurising and ejecting the unfortunate occupants into space. Sikosu felt irritated. She loathed incompetence, even when it was of benefit to her.

The cell door opened. She was fairly sure that the soldier assigned to prevent precisely that ocurrance would be unhappy with such an eventuality, as he would be with the fact that the security system had a short time ago developed a blind spot encapsulating most of the detention area. He would get into serious trouble for such a lapse.

In a way then, it was quite fortuitous for him that he was dead.

Sikosu sighed. She did not appreciate violence. It bespoke lacklustre planning and inadequate subtlety. Still, sometimes it was necessary to do what had to be done, no matter how inelegant her actions might be.

She strained her eyes to see as she entered the cell. Even with the door still open flooding the room with weak grey light, the room seemed to soak it up exuding a blackness that almost had a will of its own.

She heard a soft sob. It was almost inaudible, but in this dreadful room it seemed deafening.

Mostly by sound, her eyes just beginning to make out an outline of a shape, she moved across the room, her outstretched arm coming to rest by chance on a shoulder.

"Chiana?" she whispered.

The Nebari's entire body seemed to quiver at her touch. She stared blankly ahead, although Sikosu was certain there was enough light to see her.

"Chiana." she said again. "Can you hear me?"

Chianas entire body seemed to quiver. She stared up blindly. "D'Argo?"

Sikosu stopped, perplexed. During her short lifetime she had taken on many different roles, but she suspected that a dead Luxan warrior might be a little beyond her.

"No Chiana," she said slowly. "It is Sikosu. I need you to listen to me. I need you to _focus._"

Chianas blind, panicked eyes seemed to stop for a moment on her before skittering away again.

"You are aboard a Scarran transport. They are attempting to manipulate your mind, to confuse you." she stopped for a moment to consider her strategy. She had always loathed Chianas lack of discipline, but at this moment Chiana knew more about the enemy than she did. "Your people – the Nebari, are here. They are attempting to break you. And they are doing the same to your friends. I need you to hjere Chaina. I need you to help me to help them."

"Si - Sikosu?" She wasn't even sure if she had really heard the tremulous whisper.

"Yes." she hazarded.

"Get me out of here."

After a few fumbling moments, made longer by the blanketing darkness that forced her to work by touch alone, she succeeded in undoing the straps that held Chiana restrained. Chiana sat up slowly, rubbing her wrists. She swung herself ponderously from the chair, every action slow and controlled like a determined drunk.

Chiana looked Sikosu in the face. Her black eyes showed up as holes in the darkness.

"Hello Sikosu."

She had expected the blow. She had anticipated the blow. She didn't anticipate it soon enough though, and she didn't expect the speed or the fury behind it. After a brief moment of blurred pain she ended on the ground, her jaw aching, Chiana glowered angrily over her.

"You tried to kill us!" Chiana shouted.

"No. I wanted -" She was interrupted by a furious boot angrily connecting with her ribs. She stopped talking to concentrate on the more pressing need to breathe.

"You betrayed us, you bought the Scarrans down on us!"

Sikosu raised her arm, trying to force out the words to defend herself. Chiana supplied another furious boot which struck and head and left it swimming, then another that left her gasping in desperate agony for breath. Helplessly, she curled up against the furious attack.

"No..."

"Shut up! Its your fault he's dead!"

More blows rained down. Dispassionately Sikosu found it ironic that she would survive Scarran torture and her own peoples rejection just to be beaten to death by a thief she had deemed harmless. Maybe it was fair. Maybe it was no more than she deserved..

_No._

She rolled clumsily to the side. Her ribs and head screamed in protest and she only managed it because the Nebari was still mostly blinded by the dark and was so incensed it took her several seconds to notice her target had moved. Sikosu came to her feet, ignoring the pain that shot through her. She searched the gloom for the girl.

She found her fist - just as it crashed into her nose. She tasted blood and pain, she stumbled back and felt something catch against her foot. She fell back and felt herself land on something. She landed in the chair that had held Chiana confined.

She started to rise then was forced back as Chiana straddled her, pinning her to the chair..

"Chiana -".

She saw the Nebari's teeth gleam in the gloom as she grinned.

"What is it Sikosu? You want to beg for your life? You want to tell me none of it was your fault? _Frell you! I'm going to kill you either way!_"

"I can... help you." Sikosu stammered.

"Yeah, can you bring D'Argo back?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but as she looked up into Chiana's vengeful eyes words failed her.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, closing her eyes. She was suddenly aware of a weight lifting.

"How can you help?"

Sikosu took a deep breath, ignoring the sense of nausea as she stood. While she had expected little for her reception, least of all from Chiana, she had dared hope. But it was irrelevant. The crew of Moya were inconsequential, they were just a means to an end.. Still, their goals were the same now, and the hostile reaction stung She winced. Of course, that might own something to the fresh bruises the bitch had just stamped across her body stinging.

"I have triggered an overload of this vessels generator, it will begin when the vessels energy to mass ratio surpasses eight percent. It will cause an exponential concussive blast in the reactor chamber which will destroy this vessel. I suggest that we are not aboard at that point."

"Wow. I thought Crichton came up with some screwed up plans." Chaina said.

"What?"

"Sikosu – what's going on? Without the dren."

"Ship goes fast, ship blows up." Sikosu pulled herself up regally, pushing past Chiana, daring her to challenge her. "Do you understand _that_?"

"Yeah OK."

"I am happy for you. Now, instead of trying to kill one another, I suggest we utilise the brief remainder of our time to rescue your crew mates."

"Fine." Chiana muttered.

Sikosu held her gaze for a moment longer until Chiana looked away. It was a small victory, but with the way things had been for her lately, she would take what she could.

She led the way down the corridor. Confidence was easier somehow when there was someone else uncertain to lead. She knew Chiana still mistrusted her, that she still wanted to kill her in truth. But for now, her need for help overrode her need for vengeance. Of course they needed one another (to escape the Scarrans, she amended quickly, lest Chiana telepathically pick up the thought and begin to grin in that infuriating way she had). But right now Sikosu was in control, and she relished the fleeting sensation.

She rounded the next corner and her recovered confidence stalled mid-stride. The pair of Charrid soldiers leered at her and thrusted their weapons at her suggestively.

"Going somewhere, Kalish?" one of them rasped.

Sikosu unfroze so quickly she was sure they could not have seen her moment of absolute panic.

"Yes. I have been ordered to transfer this prisoner." she gestured back towards Chiana, who had the good sense to keep quiet for once, "Stand aside."

The Charrid sniggered. "I don't think so. Come with us."

A darker shadow detached itself from the wall. The Charrids barely had a chance to gape before powerful hands gripped their necks. There was a sickening sound of bone splintering then they collapsed.

Scorpius prodded one of the corpses with his boot. He looked up at Sikosu without emotion.

"I believe that you were attempting a rescue." he said. "May I suggest that we continue?"

Without another word he turned his back. After a moment, Chiana slipped past and followed. Sikosu stood gaping speechlessly for a long moment, then followed suit.

There was little more of note as they swept through the cells, picking up each of the crew. Sikosus distraction had worked well enough. Those members of the crew that were still alive were attempting to reach escape crafts with little concern for escaped prisoners. Of course, that would change when it became apparent that the de-pressurisation was only localised to specific areas. By then they would re-board the ship and attempt to pursue their fleeing captives, only to discover the rest of her tampering. Only briefly though. Then they would not be in a position to pursue anyone. Sikosu wasn't quite sure if the detonation of the engines would actually destroy the ship completely, or whether enough of the hull would remain intact for some survivers to escape. It mattered little, they would be in no position to pursue any further.

They found each of their companions in varying states after their ordeal.

Noranti appeared unaffected, although with the old crone it was always hard to be sure. She smiled and chuckled and seemed not in the least bit surprised to see them.

Aeryn was pale and shaken, but insisted on walking by herself. She seemed to recover hugely when she had a weapon in her grasp. The way she gripped it, she looked as if she would never put it down again.

Jothee was quiet and grim faced, and he refused to look at any of them.

Crichton – well, Crichton was Crichton, only more. After some initial confusion in which he attempted repeatedly to brain Scorpius, he acted almost as if he was intoxicated. He greeted them each exuberantly, even Sikosu. His welcoming hug left her injuries screaming in protest. He insisted on leading the way, which causes some problem as he had no idea where they were going.

Eventually – astoundingly - they boarded Sikosus small ship They watched apprehensively as the Scarran transport dwindled behind them. Then, there was a flash of blinding light as the ships engines attempted to fire and detonated. Without preamble, the ship disintegrated.

Chiana gasped. "Rygel..." she said sorrowfully.

There was a muffled thump and a curse from somewhere behind them. They craned to look apprehensively.

Scorpius reached to take up his weapon. "Reveal yourself." he commanded.

After a moment, a small head appeared from under the engine. Rygel looked at them bashfully. "What are you all doing here?"


	14. Chapter 14

Sikosu hesitated uncertainly. She stood poised on the threshold of the chamber, one hand on the door. Althought she could not see him, she knew that just on the other side was Scorpius.

It seemed like a lifetime since she had last spoken to the half-breed. It seemed almost like the the memories belonged to another person. She could remember looking up through a cloud of pain, unable and unwilling to speak a plea to him as he stood over her, an expression of hurt and betrayal etched on his pale face.

When he had not responded to her attempts to contact him, she had tried to make herself believe that he had simply not received her messages. But his reaction to her aboard the Scarran transport, and his total apathy towards her afterwards – the cramped day and a half waiting to reunite with Moya had seemed painfully long. Every causal near glance, every time he almost looked at her and refused had confirmed her darkest fears. He had received her communications, he had simply chosen not to respond. He still blamed her.

It seemed like such a long time ago to her now. Her time aboard Moya had been filled with indignities and frustration – at least that was how it had seemed at the time. Now, she almost cherished those memories. The crew of Moya had been the closest she had known to friends in her brief lifetime. And Scorpius, Scorpius had been something more.

She stood paralysed between the need to try to salvage that shattered relationship and the fear that it could never be repaired.

Her agony was interrupted when the door abruptly opened, and suddenly, Scorpius was standing face to face with her.

She felt a chill sweep through her body, leaving her mind brittle and numb. She could scarcely find the courage to glance up at his face. She thought she saw a brief, tiny flicker of surprise in his eyes, then it was carefully masked by a completely blank expression.

Sikosu opened her mouth to speak, but all her carefully rehearsed words were forgotten. She felt an overpowering urge to run, but was pinned in place by his icy gaze.

"Sikosu." Scorpius' voice was totally empty of emotion. He simply acknowledged her existence and waited incuriously for her to speak.

She swallowed, tasting fear in her mouth trying to steal her voice. "Scorpius." she managed to whisper.

Scorpius studied her for a long moment. "What do you want, Sikosu?"

_You_. Maybe not an opportune moment for that answer. "I wanted to explain."

Scorpius pointedly turned his back on her and stalked back into the room. "There is nothing that you can say to me." he said.

Sikosu bowed her head, she felt tears of frustration stinging her eyes. A bitter laugh tried to force itself past her lips, then settled for echoing around her head. _Pathetic._ She chastised herself bitterly._ Half a cycle later and here you are, shaking and crying like a weak, pitiful child. No wonder he doesn't want to see you. If this is all you are, you do not deserve his forgiveness._

With a conscious effort, she forced her anger to the front of her mind. She drew herself up haughtily and stepped after him into the room.

"Scorpius." She repeated in a stronger voice, "On that planet, with the Eidelons -"

Scorpius cut her off, although he kept his back to her. "What happened then is no longer of significance Sikosu. It does not concern me."

Sikosu felt a faint flicked of hope. "Then are we..."

"You were of some assistance to our escape on the transport. For that you have my thanks. But there is no us. You are also no longer of any concern to me. I suggest you leave here." Scorpius' tone was bored. Sikosu had anticipated anger, even violence. She was at a loss as to how to handle apathy.

"I never intended to betray you. I would have died for you. I would have stood side by side with you against the entire Scarran empire without hesitation."

She studied his back as he still refused to turn to face her. She sighed in exasperation.

"It was so easy for you," she said, "For you it was simple. The Scarrans were the enemy, to be destroyed at any price. But it was never so simple for me.

When the war began, it was my people who found themselves in the middle, trapped between Scarran servitude and Peacekeeper weapons. The Peacekeepers were both outnumbered and out gunned. Instead of facing the Scarrans head on, they chose instead to strike at supply lines, at transports, at production facilities and at civilian installations. In those attacks of was Kalish who bore the brunt of the damage, who perished by the thousand."

"So you chose to become a Scarran agent, betrayed your own people and me, simply to safeguard the lives of a few collaborators?" Scorpius' light tone belied his words. They could have been discussing the weather.

"No!" Sikosu felt her composure . The anger that had given her the courage to face Scorpius began to swell beyond her control. "Some of the information I gave the Scarrans was correct. I would not have made a very convincing spy else. Yes, I warned them of impending attacks that would have devastated my people, yet would have accomplished little of strategic value. But most of the information I sent to the Scarrans was misdirection and falsehoods directed at stalling the Scarrans. I believe that my actions did aid us. I was not a traitor."

"So, you became a double agent. All in pursuit of our common goal?"

"Yes." she whispered.

"And yet you chose not to inform me of your actions."

"I..." she faltered.

Why hadn't she told him, she wondered. She had told herself that he didn't need to know, that it was safer for him not to know. On some level she still considered the plight of her people to be her responsibility, her fight alone that should not involve outsiders, not even him.

But on another level, her relationship with Scorpius had always been about power. From the start it had been a delicate dance, a sparring match between partners who were fascinated to have finally discovered an equal. They circled each other, always looking for a sign of weakness, searching for something to tip the balance for just a little while.

It had given her a sense of power over him. She had been thrilled by the dangerous knowledge that she had kept from him, gratified and aroused by the thought that she could keep something vital from her perceptive lover.

And of course there was the final reason. It was this reason that she genuinely feared that he would kill her for if he knew, but was the only thing she could say to make him understand.

"In the final battle, on the water planet," she stepped closer to his turned back, trying to gauge his reaction to her words by his breathing and stance, "The Scarrans had overrun the city. Defeat for our fleet in orbit was an inevitability, and John Crichton had failed to produce the wormhole weapon on which you had placed such faith. I believed that our cause was futile. I contacted Akhna to try to broker a deal." She stopped, her mind filled with the memory of the black despair that had driven her to that fateful decision.

"So you sold our lives in exchange for a hollow promise of freedom for your race." Scorpius surmised. "You are a fool."

"Perhaps." She acknowledged. "But I did not reveal to you the true nature of the bargain we struck. I knew that Akhna would never honour a pledge to free my people. I did believe she would do as I asked."

She reached up tentatively to touch Scorpius' shoulder. "My price was a full pardon and amnesty for you, after the war had ended and Crichton was in custody. I did it for you, Scorpius."

Scorpius spun around. Snarling incoherently he lunged forwards, gripping her shoulders with a force that scraped bones together. He forced her backwards a half dozen frantic steps until her back collided with the door. Her head spun from the impact and the air was jolted from her lungs from the bruising impact.

Scorpius face was inches from hers, his eyes blazing with rage.

"_My life means nothing to me!_" he spat. "_Your life – the lives of this crew – a billion lives – all that matters is the destruction of the Scarrans!_"

With terrifying strength, he shook her like a doll, slamming her back and head into the door forcefully.

"There is no sacrifice too great, no price not worth paying to see the galaxy rid of their threat. You should have understood that." Scorpius' voice was quieter, more controlled again now. But his eyes still burned with fury, and he had forced his arm across her neck, implacably choking her.

Sikosu pawed desperately at his arm, struggling futilely to breath as he squeezed the life out of her.

Scorpius calmly held her pinned in place as her desperate thrashing became more frenzied and then began to weaken. Finally, she managed a kind of pleading gurgle.

After another moment, Scorpius released his grip and took a step back. Sikosu collapsed to the floor gasping.

Scorpius stood looking down at her, once again calm and dispassionate.

"You should leave now, Sikosu."

Sikosu took a deep, shuddering lungful of air. She looked up at him through eyes streaming with tears.

"No." she gasped, her voice emerging as a croak.

"No?" Scorpius actually sounded amused.

"No," she repeated. She tried to get to her feet but her legs failed to cooperate. With the assistance of the door she managed to drag herself to her knees.

She took another deep breath. "You think that I do not understand. You think that your desire to destroy the Scarans is greater than my own. I am a little under six cycles in age." she stated.

Scorpius remained motionless, although she detected a faint puzzled flicker in his expression at the seemingly random tangent.

"I am a bioloid. I was created by Kalish opposed to Scarran domination. The sole purpose to my existance is the elimination of the Scarrans."

She wondered how much of this he already knew. He had seen enough of her unique physiology to realise that she was no ordinary Kalish, she had revealed enough of herself to him that he must have at least suspected something. But this? She concluded that she must at least be keeping his interest to an extent as he wasn't trying to throttle her again.

"I lived there during my first cycle. I never once set foot outside those walls, but I was taught everything I needed to complete my mission." She tried a wan smile to see what effect it would have. "I have recently come to realise however that in some ways my education may have been lacking."

Scorpius' answering smile was almost imperceivable.

Sikosu pulled herself to her feet, although her legs still trembled and she had to steady herself with one hand against the wall.

"When I left there, my mission was to find a peacekeeper scientist believed to be developing powerful weapons against the Scarrans. He was also known to be pursuing an escaped leviathan deep into the uncharted territories, close to Scarran controlled space. I found the leviathan, correctly assuming that you would be nearby."

She took a cautious step towards the motionless half-breed.

"I had studied you extensively before I ever met you. Your background, your work, your heritage. None of it truly prepared me for what I found.

"You were created by the Scarrans, I as a weapon against the Scarrans. Yet I found myself drawn to you as to none other."

She reached her hand towards him but he flinched back. She dropped her hand in defeat.

"Why did you come back here?" Scorpius' voice was almost inaudible..

Sikosu stared at the ground. "With the assistance of their Nebari allies, the Scarrans have exterminated the bioloid resistance. The scientists that created us are dead or imprisoned. I am amongst the last of my kind." Finally she was unable to summon the will to prevent the tears that dripped to the floor, or to care that he witnessed her weakness. "I had no-one else to go to."

She started as she felt a gentle touch against her cheek.

Scorpius leaned his head down closer to hers. She saw that strangely gentle glimmer in his eyes.

"I should have killed you." he murmured.

Sikosu smiled. "But you didn't."

"I still should kill you."

"But you won't."

"Can you be sure?" without seeming to have moved, the two of them were so close now it was hard to tell where she ended and he began. Contrary to his composed exterior, Sikosu could feel his heart beating in time with her own.

"I trust you." Sikosu said.

"Really?"

She looked up at him with a playful smile. She knew where _that_ game went. She leaned towards him.

"Completely." she bought her face up to kiss him.

She stopped and looked up at him puzzled.

"What is it?" she said.

Scorpius took a step back, de-entwining himself. "Sikosu, I apologise if I have mislead you."

He actually appeared flustered, a sight that Sikosu had never imagined seeing and in other circumstances she would have found amusing. She stared at him in bewilderment, her lips opening to form the obvious question.

"I am involved with another now." Scorpius said shortly.

"Oh." Sikosu said hollowly. She felt as she might if she was drowning and her supposed rescuer had just thrown her a concrete block.

"Who?"

There was a long pause.

"Captain Bracca."

Sikosu's mind felt numb and disconnected. It seemed to take an eternity for the words to sink in. When they did she looked up sharply. She saw the look on Scorpius' face. She saw an image of the sycophantic little peacekeeper officer, forever following Scorpius around like a spurned pet, failing to conceal his hatred of Sikosu for her closeness to his master.

Scorpius wrapped her in his arms again, his face still completely straight. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she collapsed with uncontrollable laughter.


	15. Chapter 15

Rygel ate. Somehow there was nothing in the world quite so reassuringly normal as the sight of the diminutive Hynerian gorging himself on enough food to nourish a half-starved boudong.

"He seems... normal." Jothee said. Rygel belched loudly between mouthfuls. He amended, "I mean, for him."

Rygel showed no sign of noticing Chiana and Jothee watching him surreptitiously through the bars. Of course, when meal times came, Rygels view of the world around him tended to unerringly narrow down to one singular point. Which he then ate.

"You saw what he was like when we found him. Rygel wouldn't just betray us like that."

There was a sceptical pause while that idea was duly held up for consideration.

"Ok, maybe he would – but they've done something to him!"

Jothee glanced sidelong at Chiana. He looked away quickly. The sight of the anguished expression twisting her pale face and the frustrated set of her slight body caused an effect on his own body that he wasn't quite ready to deal with. If he looked for more than a fraction of a second he knew he would not be able to control himself.

"So what's wrong with him then?" he said slightly more harshly than he intended.

"I don't know!" Chiana said. "Why should I know?"

Jothee tried to ignore the sense of her presence too near him. It wasn't working – she could project her personality through a meter thick bulkhead; thick though it was his skull had no chance. He tried angrily to push against the feelings she was forcing on him.

"You're Nebari. Your people did this to him. Shouldn't you at least have _some _idea what they were doing with him – and what they were going to do to us?"

Jothee couldn't quite keep the accusation out of his tone. It wasn't that her people were behind the latest attempt to kill them. It wasn't that Rygel, who he had barely known - he felt that that small contact was _more_ than enough, was possibly still under their control. It was the same problem as always. After his fathers death he couldn't take his eyes off Chiana – his fathers lover. He couldn't bear to be away from her, but equally he couldn't be stand to be near her. That turned his frustration against her most often, to Chianas obvious dismay. Chiana clearly grieved for D'Argo, but her grief was too profound to share with the others who were close to her. She had seen him, suffering from the same loss and naturally was drawn to him. Yet he refused to allow her close even for a moment even though she had chosen him, terrified that he would betray his father yet again.

He knew that he was only causing Chiana more suffering when she needed his help, but he couldn't help himself.

"Yeah, fine. I'm Nebari." Chiana spun to face him, he could smell the anger pouring off her. "Doesn't mean I know bugger all about what they did to Ryg!"

"What the frell does that mean?"

"If you two cretins can possibly spare a moment I have something important to say. I understand that this might take you a while to understand, so I'll say it slowly."

They both looked round. Chiana whispered, barely audible. "Ryg?"

The Hynerian spared them a long, withering look.

"Yes Chiana. Now, listen to me very – very carefully. Let.Me. The! Frell! _Out! **Of! HERE!!**_"

"Ryel -"

"Shut up."

Chiana looked to Jotheee in astonishment and hurt. But he knew this game, and he wasn't about to let her distract him.

"What are you doing here Hynerian? You just happened to be on our ship as we were escaping? I doubt it. What were you really doing there Rygel?"

For once, Jothee hated being right; which was a new experience for him. He'd been a slave for most of his life – had the idea beaten into him again and again that any independent thought was not just bad, but that it was unthinkable. He'd learned well how to keep even the thought of deception from even himself. He knew how to see the lie in another - even the unspoken lie.

"I told you. When they captured me I pretended to play along." Rgyel fumed. "If i could speak to someone with more braincells than fingers, I would bother to explain further."

Chiana melted forwards towards the cell.

"Ryg..." she said in a broken voice.

Rygel reached out, almost touching her. "Chiana. Please, help me."

Jothee grasped Chiana roughly by the shoulder and hauled her back.

"You know you can't trust him." he hissed.

Chiana looked at him, her dark eyes brimming with tears. His knees went limp, possibly to balance the other part of his body which did the opposite. "I know." she whispered.

"I demand you release me at once!"

"I don't... I don't think he'd been cleansed."

"Why not?"

"Because he'd not acting like a zombie. Its like he's still Rygel, just... not."

"Whats a zombie?"

"Think Crichton when he's drunk."

"Oh, that bad?"

"No. Not quite"

"_You're deluding yourselves._"

Jothee glared. Rygel smiled back smugly through the bars.

"What are you talking about?"

"You think the Nebari have done something to me. You think that my actions are not my own. You're wrong."

"Really, so we just imagined the whole part where you betrayed us and left us to be tortured."

Rygel sighed. "I'm truly sorry about that. But you must understand, you had attacked one of their vessels. Most of the known galaxy still considers most of you to be criminals. With time I could have convinced the Nebari to release you. Now, you have escaped and kidnapped their ally. They will hunt you down no matter where you run."

"Rygel, you're not their -"

"Yes Chiana, I am. I killed Bishaan and reclaimed my throne. I am hyneria, and Hyneria has allied itself with the Nebari."  
"And the Scarrans and Charrids?"  
Rygel laughed. "The Scarrans are brutish thugs, the Charrids are less still. But they command the largest army in the galaxy. The Nebari are using them simply as cannon fodder for the coming war."

"And Hyneria? What are they using you as?"

"Hyneria is now officially a protectorate of the Nebari Federation. Listen to me. I know what allying with the Nebari shall entail. But the loss of some minor freedoms is insignificant when you consider what is at stake.

Think about the history of all civilisations. We fight. If we can't find anyone else to fight then we fight ourselves. Each war is bigger, more devastating than the last. The war between the Peacekeepers and the Scarrans decimated entire worlds, killed tens of billions. The entire galaxy was almost destroyed! What do you think the next war will be like? Sooner or later, in ten cycles, a hundred cycles or ten thousand even, we will destroy ourselves.

But the Nebari... Chiana, your people haven't fought a war in over four thousand cycles! They understand that it is the nature of people everywhere to destroy themselves, so they have chosen to change that nature. There will be one final war, then they will bring peace to the galaxy. They will save us from ourselves."

"By destroying everything that makes us alive?"

Jothee jumped despite himself. He spun round. Scorpius stepped out of the gloom, a dark shape separating seamlessly from the darkness. Sikosu accompanied him silently, like a far more attractive shadow.

"Existing without self-determination is not living." he said. "The Rygel I knew was a Peacekeeper prisoner for over eighty cycles. He would recognise slavery, no matter the promises it was wrapped in."

Rygel made a growling noise. He backed away from the bars.

"You! Keep that monster away from me!"

Scorpius pointedly ignored the Hynerian.

"The others are in the Command." he said. "I suggest we join them now."

"Why?" Chiana said.

"Because I have information pertaining to our currant situation which may be of aid." Sikosu said.

"Yeah, what s that?"

"Come with us to Command and you shall see." Scorpius said cryptically.

Rygel watched through the bars as they left. Satisfied that they had gone, he turned his attention back to the lock.


	16. Chapter 16

"Ok Scorpi babe, what's the big emergency?"

Crichton treated the half breed to a especially bright smile. It was better than pointing a gun.

Scorpius' answering glance was inscrutable as always. "No emergency, John. I apologise for waking you."

"Oh, we weren't sleeping." That earned him a sharp glare from Aeryn. He smiled at her beatifically.

"So what's up?"

"No emergency John, but I believe that you will all want to see this." Scorpius addressed the assembled group. "During her time aboard the transport on we were incarcerated, Sikosu was able to uncover a recording left by the Nebari. I believe this may be of assistance to us."

Sikosu stepped forwards to stand next to Scorpius. She delicately held up a small object to the light.

"As you have been told, this disk contains critical information information pertaining to the conspiracy between the Nebari and the Scarrans. I was able to acquire it by -"

Chiana raised a hand, "Hey, here's a though. Do we care how you got it?"

Sikosu spared her a disdainful glare. "Fine. As I am certain you will be able to ascetain – or at least I am certain most of you will be able to -" she directed this comment at Chiana who glowered, " - this recording may well prove instrumental in discerning the motives of the Nebari and the Scarrans, and to uncover the cause of the Hynerians present condition."

There was a long pause as they all translated this.

"Did she just say this will help Rygel?" Chiana whispered loudly.

"I think so." Jothee said doubtfully.

"Well then what are we waiting for? I'll fetch the popcorn."

The image that appeared over the table was distorted and grainy. But there was no mistaking the female Scarran.

"Akhna." Aeryn said darkly.

"You should have used a bigger gun." Crichton said.

"Next time I will."

The Scarran was speaking to someone else. "... taking too much time. The Hierarchy -"

"Will soon be obsolete." came a smooth voice. "They simply do not realise it yet."

Chiana let out a hiss of breath. "Neiri..."

"Nevertheless, buying their cooperation is becoming more costly the longer we wait. If emperor Starleek becomes aware of our arrangement..."

"That would be unfortunate. Until our agents are in place it is vital that we remain undetected."

"Might it not be be better for Starleek to suffer an unfortunate accident? I can guarantee that his successor would be more... accommodating." From Akhna's tone, it was clear who would be succeeding Starleek.

"No." Neiri said. "His assassination would raise too much suspicion and we are not ready for that yet. We continue as planned, by the time Starleek is aware of what is happening, it will be too late. Nothing can go wrong."

"Really? I hear there have been some issues with the Hynerians?"

"A minor incident. For our purposes, one dominar is much the same as another. The contagion guarantees his loyalty."

"An interesting concept, this contagion." said Akhna.

"The concept is not a new one. The virus is spread throughout the general population through carnal contact. In the case of key government officials however, it cannot be left to chance and they are deliberately infected."

"And this contagion overrides the individuals natural sense of priorities."

"When we choose to trigger it." Neiri sounded pleased with his own cleverness.

"And at such time you have a legion of completely loyal agents at the heart of your enemies. Impressive."

"I'm glad you approve."

"I didn't say that. Exactly how much of the galaxy have you infected?" Akhna said suspiciously.

"Sufficient for our needs. You needn't concern yourself. As you know, your species is immune. That is why we have entered into this arrangement with you."

"Concerning that. Why come to me? Why not Starleek?" Akhna spat the name as if it was a curse.

"To be honest, we considered it." Neiri said frankly, "But Starleek considers himself invulnerable. He would see no benefit to an alliance between our two people – he might even see us as a threat. On the other hand we have helped you to achieve your own political goals. In return -"

"In return I am grateful. But I will not take the throne, only to be a pawn to your agenda."

"Of course." Neiri said, "The Scarran empire will simply be a protectorate of the Nebari regime. You shall maintain full autonomy to rule yourselves."

"What guarantee do I have that -"

Ahknas head swelled to twice its normal size, then shrunk to the size of a pea. Horizontal lines speared through her. Then the image dissolved.

"That is all I had time to record." Sikosu explained.


	17. Chapter 17

"Pilot, any idea where he is yet?" Crichton bellowed.

Pilot sighed inwardly to himself. He had no idea why, come whatever inevitable catastrophe beset them, they all felt the need to run around the ship shouting aimlessly. But that was always their first response to any emergency. Run as fast as you can and shout as loud as possible. And never stop to think first.

Privately, he considered that things would probably go a lot smoother if people were just a little quieter and calmer. But what would he know about running the ship? He was merely her pilot.

In his most patient tone of voice he responded, "No Commander, not since he entered Moyas neural cluster."

"Well keep looking."

Pilot rolled his eyes. "Yes, Commander."

He switched off the comms and muttered an oath that would have shocked and amazed his crew mates. From somewhere in front of him there was a gurgling sound. Pilot craned to see over the consoles in front of him. After a moment a small head popped up.

Baby D'Argo smiled up at him and parroted the words inexpertly.

Pilot stared at the infant in surprise for a long millionth of a second.

"How did you get down here?" he said softly.

D'Argo giggled. "Eye-gull!" he proclaimed proudly.

Pilot blinked in bafflement. "You flew?"

D'Argo laughed and shook his head. "Ollo eye-gull."

Pilot activated the comms cautiously. "Aeryn, Crichton? Could you come here please? I believe that -"

He stopped. He was suddenly aware of a small but distinct sound. It was the sound of someone priming a pulse pistol to fire a few inches from his ear.

"Pilot, please tell them that it was a false alarm."

Pilot paused to consider his options. Regrettably, there were only two which presented themselves, one of which consisted of discovering if he could survive with a large chunk of his skull missing.

"Pilot, what's the news?"

"We're on our way now, Pilot."

"No! No, it is alright." Pilot said hurriedly. "It was a false alarm. My apologies."

"Great. Well if you do see that little frog, tell him I'm going to kill him." Crichton said pleasantly.

Pilot switched off the comms again. He heard a laboured shuffling sound behind him, then Rygel climbed round onto the front of the console.

"Pilot, you've got to help me!"

Pilot looked pointedly at the gun that Rygel still held in both hands.

"Really." he said flatly.

"Crichton and the others – they've trying to kill me!" Rygel said frantically, the gun wavering erratically. If it fired now, Pilot had no idea which part of his anatomy he might loose.

"They aren't trying to kill you, they are trying to help you Rygel." Pilot said soothingly. "The Nebari -"

"Frell the Nebari! It's _Scorpius_! It's _frelling_ Scorpius! He's done something to the others, turned them all against me! Pilot, you have to help me!"

"I believe you, Rygel." Pilot said. "I believe that you would say or do anything right now to escape."

Rygel growled. "Pilot..."

"No, Dominar. The hangar bay is locked down. The transport pods are disabled. The others and my DRDs are performing a tier by tier search for you now."

Right now Pilot wished he'd kept a few DRDs on hand instead of sending them all out.

"There is nowhere for you to go, Rygel. Shoot me if you will, and maybe the others _will_ kill you when they find you."

Rygel gaped at Pilot. Then he narrowed his eyes. For just a moment, Pilot thought the Hynerian _would_ fire, then he turned and regarded D'Argo thoughtfully – who was happily engrossed in the task of excavating his nose with one stubby finger.

"He does have my nose, don't you think?" Rygel mused. "Pilot, switch the comms back on."

Pilot felt a growing sense of cold apprehension.

"Rygel -"

"Do it, Pilot!"

Pilot moved an arm across the console. For a moment he paused over the button that would vent the chamber. He had disregarded it for fear of harming D'Argo. But babies tend to bounce, and he was beginning to suspect that it might be worth the risk. He pressed the button opening the comms.

Rygel cleared his throat. "My 'friends'. I believe you have been looking for me."

There was a short silence, then Crichtons voice. "Rygel? Where are you?"

Rygel climbed down from Pilots console. He waddled over to the infant.

"I'm in Pilots chamber. You'll never guess who else is here. D'Argo, say hello to your daddy."

"Da!"

The sheer volume of Crichtons response rendered most of the words inaudible over the comms, although the general meaning came through. As far as Pilot could gather, it had something to do with Rygels genetalia and a large mallet.

Rygel chuckled. "I love you too Crichton. Now shut up and listen to me."

"What do you want Rygel?" Aeryns tone was cold with suppressed emotion.

"D'Argo and I are going to take a little walk down to the hangar bay. I know that it will be an uneventful trip. We wouldn't want D'Argo to see anything that might disturb him, now do we?" he let that sink in.

"You wouldn't hurt D'Argo, you know what would happen to you if you did." Crichton snapped.

Rygel snorted. "You think I've been mind-frelled by the Nebari. If that's the case I will do _anything_ to escape."

"We understand. We won't try to stop you."

"Excellent Aeryn. I knew you would be the first to see reason." Rygel waddled over to D'Argo.

"But if you harm him, I will kill you. _Eventually._"

"Hmph. Come on D'Argo, You're coming for a walk with Uncle Rygel."

"Eye-gull!"

"Yes, I see you got your fathers brains. Oh well."

With Rygels help, D'Argo managed to stand on the third attempt. He stood almost as tall as Rygel already. Pilot had never had the opportunity to observe the development of sebatian – or half sebatian children. D'Argos recent growth had seemed impossibly fast to him and he gathered to Crichton as well. Aeryn had explained, although he hadn't quite believed until he had seen it. The first half cycle or so was devoted to developing basic motor control and stimuli response. Peacekeeper scientists had found that this was easier and less destructive to be accomplished while the child was still small. After this period however, accelerated development kicked in. According to Aeryn that only lasted until the child had grown to the equivalent of early childhood, when the child was developed sufficiently to begin his or her training.

Consequently, Pilot had recently become accustomed to D'Argo changing almost in front of his eyes – from day to day he could scarcely believe him to be the same child.

In D'Argo, Rygel had found a constant, veracious appetite that could match his own, but except in this one area he was unlikely to be able to do much to oppose the Hynerian except possibly to dribble on him.

"Rygel. Please..."

"Goodbye Pilot." Rygel said. "And Pilot – Scoprius – Don't trust him."

With those words, Rygel lurched his way out of the chamber, hindered by D'Argo who hadn't quite mastered walking yet in any case, and in this case had discovered a great new game repeatedly trying to trip the Hynerian up.

Pilot waited for a few moments, then touched several buttons.

"I have encrypted the comms. Rygel cannot hear us." he declared.

"Good work pilot." Jothee said, "Now what are we going to do?"

"Rygel must not be allowed to escape." Scorpius stated.

"Hasn't he already escaped?" Chiana pointed out.

"We can't risk him harming D'Argo." Aeryn said.

While part of Pilot listened, another part of him was aware of the dozens of eyes of the DRDs scattered throughout Moya. On another level he was aware of Moya herself, of a dozen or so continuous processes that he helped her to regulate, of the hundreds that were no more in his control than his own heartbeats. And he could feel her her trepidation and protective rage that burned when he had been threatened.

"Rygel was on foot." he volunteered, "It should be some time until he reaches the transport hangar."

"Sabotage?" Sikosu suggested, "I may be able to cause his transport pod to loose power shortly after it leaves the hangar. Then we may retrieve Rygel without risk to Aeryn and Crichtons offspring."

"If Rygel finds himself in a disabled pod he will send a signal to the Nebari. That is unacceptable." Scorpius said.

"Hey, Sikosu?" Chiana said hesitantly, "You rigged that Scarran ship to explode, yeah?"

"Can you do the same thing to a transport pod?"

There was a horrified silence.

"Chiana, we don't actually want to kill him." Crichton said finally.

"Frell you! The way he is now, he's worse than dead. And he's gonna lead those bastards right here to do the same thing to us!"

Pilot looked down at his console. With a single exception, he had not left this room – this spot, in ten cycles. He knew that console better than he knew his own face. He knew every button, every work groove, every scratch. He knew which marks had been made by him, and which had been made by Moyas previous pilot. His eyes were drawn towards a scar deeper than most, he guessed gouged by his predecessor in her death throes as the peacekeepers executed her.

Pilot had known slavery first hand, but at least the Peacekeepers didn't expect you to like it. They didn't expect you to be grateful.

"No." said Crichton, "We're not killing him. Sikosu, do your thing to disable the pod. Once we get Kermit back aboard we starburst out of here and pray the Nebari can't follow us."

"This is foolishness, John."

"Hey, Scorp – I don't mention your teeth, you don't criticise my plans."

Pilot sat and waited. He really didn't have much choice. He concentrated his mind on Moyas external senses. So far, Moya could detect no other ships even at the very limit of her senses. That was good, that meant that Rygel had been unable to find a way to contact the Nebari onboard Moya. Pilot focused on as wide an area he could manage. He tried to calm himself as he could feel his own fear beginning to unsettle Moya.

"D'Argo!" Crichtons cry startled him back into his own body.

"Crichton? What is happening?"

"We've got D'Argo Pilot. He's alright, he was sitting just outside the hangar."

"Has Rygel launched yet Pilot?"

Pilot concentrated. "He... oh."

"Oh? Oh what Pilot?"

"John, you'd better come see this." Aeryn said.

"See what? Oh..."

Pilot watched with dismay as the small craft was flown inexpertly but determinedly away from Moya. That had been part of the plan. Any moment now the transport pods engines should cut out and Rygel would be helpless to be recaptured.

The only problem was that it wasn't a transport pod that Rygel had stolen. It was Crichtons module.


	18. Chapter 18

"Pilot, have we got starburst yet?" Crichton shouted.

"Not yet, Commander."

"Well, not to rush you but that Nebari ships so close that I can read their numberplate."

"We are trying. But Moya..."

Moya was exhausted. Noranti could feel the ships fatigue as if it was her own. She placed a hand against a bulkhead and felt the ship trembling with exertion. A dozen starbursts in as many hours had taken its toll on all of them. Noranti felt as if her innards had somehow been scooped out and replaced with boiling tar without her noticing. Her skin ached.

A neat, orderly looking face appeared on the viewer. It was a friendly looking face that old women would confidently invite into their home for tea and biscuits, only to find themselves an hour later the proud owner of ten thousand shares in a south African ski school, and a new mortgage on their house.

Of course, even if the above scenario had meant anything to Noranti, she hadn't considered herself an old woman for at least fifty cycles. The mans face smiled while his eyes plotted murder.

"Leviathon and her crew. I advise you to power down and submit immediately." the Nebari said calmly.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen." Chiana said.

The Nebaris eyes flickered. "Please understand that we have no desire to harm you. Your vessel cannot outrun us and you are defenceless. If we wanted you dead you would already be so." A warning note entered his voice. "It is in your own best interest to comply. If you do not, we will be forced to take certain unpleasant measures."

Noranti wondered why the man seemed familiar? The voice, and now she thought about it the face too. An old lover perhaps? Or maybe she had simply dreamt it?"

"That's it!" she burst out triumphantly, "He's the man Akhna was talking to about taking over the galaxy! Chianas brother, Neiri!"

Crichton dashed from one end of command to the other, seemingly at random. "Yeah, thanks granny; we got that. Pilot, patch me through!"

Another groan ran through the ship as Moya tried desperately to starburst.

"Hey guys? Listen, we'd love to do what you say, but we're experiencing some technical difficulties over here. Our ship er..."

Jothee leaped in, "Has suffered ruptures to the – to the - "

" - to the amnexious conduits, leading to secondary buildups of - " Aeryn contributed.

"Build-ups of toxic waste products in the... in the air filters!" Chiana concluded triumphantly. "So frell off!"

Crichton winced. "Do you think they bought it?"

A blast of weapons fire rocked the ship, knocking them from their feet.

"I'd guess not." Aeryn supplied.

"This is your final warning." Neiris voice had lost all pretence of friendship. "Stand down now or the next shot will cripple your vessel."

Noranti groaned. It wasn't being thrown off her feet that had particularly hurt – it was landing on her head that had been painful. She looked up and felt her vision waver sickeningly.

After a moment she found herself standing somewhere unfamiliar. She looked around in confusion. Her vision was hazy as if there was a thick mist just behind her eyes.

Amongst the flames and rubble she heard the screams of the dying – too many to count if she had a lifetime, her gaze came to rest on a figure lying prone and broken in the ruins. In her curious dreamlike state she realised she knew him, but her mind refused to fill in any further detail.

The figure opened its eyes and looked up at her. Somehow she knew that it was not her that he saw however, just as she knew she neither had nor would ever set foot here.

"My... congratulations." the figure said in a dying whisper. "You are... truly... Scarran."

There was a thunderous explosion that seemed to shake the entire world. Noranti was hurled from her feet. Dancing lights exploded behind her eyes as her head struck stone.

Noranti groaned. She had an unpleasant sense of having been in two places at once, and both of them having been bashed round the head. She heard a voice speaking.

" - next shot will cripple your vessel."

Another voice cut in. "On the contrary, Nebari. "withdraw, or it shall be your vessel that is destroyed."

Noranti managed to climb to her feet. She peered at the image of two sleek looking ships side by side, menacing Moya. Standing watching were two Crichtons, and two – she blinked rapidly. After a few moments her vision combined the two images back into one.

"Do not be a fool, Scorpius. Your ship is defenceless – you cannot escape."

"I choose to believe differently." Scorpius said blandly.

Shimmering like the visions from her minds eye, another vessel appeared alongside the Nebari. It was smaller and dart like in shape. It faced the larger ship and scored a line of fire down its flank. The Nebari ship lurched drunkenly to face its attacker, but as quickly as it had appeared it was gone. A beam of deadly light swept through the space it had occupied but the Nebari weapons failed to find their target.

Neiris voice returned across the comms, surprisingly unperturbed considering one side of his ship was now a scortched ruin. "A stealth vessel. Impressive. Nonetheless, -"

"Your vessel will withdraw now, or my next attack will be lethal."

"You cannot win, Scorpius." Neiri sounded bored by the entire exchange. "If you destroy this vessel then another will come. And another, and another. Our time has come; you cannot defeat us any more than you could hold back the tide with your voice."

"Really? I have not tried that yet.

Again Scorpius' ship appeared like a wraith. Again a barrage of fire scythed through the Nebair vessel. For a moment it appeared that the beleaguered ship might somehow weather the storm. Then, without prologue, the ship simply disintegrated.

There was a moment of silence, made all the louder by Chianas complete lack of reaction to the death of her brother. She stood and watched with rapt attention as the floating fragments of ship drifted and spun apart. Without a word she turned and walked slowly out of command.

"Pip..." Crichton moved uncertainly as if to follow her. Aeryn grasped his arm and shook her head.

Grudgingly, Crichton turned his attention back to the remaining vessel.

"Scorpi – not that we aren't grateful for the save, but what the hell was that?"

"My apologies John. It took Sikosu and I longer than anticipated to repair the damage to my vessel."

Rygel had made sure that they could not follow him during his dramatic escape two days earlier.

"And why didn't you tell us what you were doing? We could have starburst and left you behind."

"I am touched by your concern for my well-being, John."

Noranti could see Crichtons scowl, but its difficult to begrudge someone who has just saved your life.

"Just get your creepy arse back on Moya, then we can get the hell out of here."

There was a general sagging amongst the group, a sense that now the energising fear of imminent death had passed, exhaustion had returned home and bought along some friends.

Jothee yawned. "I'm going to my chamber. Actually, frell it – i think I'll just sleep here."

Noranti leaped to her feet. At her age, exhaustion had long since become a constant that her body had stopped complaining about.

"I know what will cheer us up!" she said brightly. "I shall make some lovely Maltaran stew! Very energising. And I happen to have all the ingredients here." She considered. "Well, some of the ingredients. Well, similar ingredients anyway, and I found something growing in Moyas waste recycler that looks a little like Spindle Mushrooms." she clapped her hands. "I shall improvise!"

Aeryn looked at her blearily through bloodshot eyes. "You do that. I'm going to check on D'Argo." she mumbled dully.

Noranti bustled out happily. As usual she let her feet guide her to the kitchen. They knew the way as well as she did, and were less prone to becoming confused.

For some reason, this time they chose to take her on an indirect route. It meant she passed quite close to the hangar bay, which was in the opposite direction.

She was startled from her thoughts as she saw two figures walking down the corridor. She looked around in confusion, taking in her surroundings. Then she looked at the taller figure and her eyes widened.

"I know you!" she whispered, pointing a suddenly trembling hand.

Scorpius looked at her incuriously. "Of course you do, Noranti." he said soothingly. He carried on past the stationary woman without another glance.

Noranti squeezed her eyes shut. She saw again the ruins of a dying world, vengeful fire raining from the sky. Unknown to her, her third eye widened.

"So much blood, so much death, the bodies were piled like mountains, as far as the eye can see. So much blood your drowning in it, yet still it won't sake your thirst."

Noranti opened her eyes. Scorpius and Sikosu had both stopped and were staring at her.

Sikosu wore a baffled look as if an earthworm had just began to recite the bible in Hebrew. Scorpius wore a bland look as he studied her.

"Sikosu, would you mind going ahead? I will meet you later." Scorpius did not take his eyes off Noranti.

Sikosu gave him a puzzled frown then nodded reluctantly. She stepped away.

"What do you want, Noranti?" Scorpius said.

"I've seen it!" Noranti said triumphantly.

Scorpius stepped towards her. "And what have you seen?" he said softly.

"All of it! Shadows in the dark, whispering sweet lies to one another! And you – you in the middle, burning like a flame that burns away the light!"

Noranti backed away as Scorpius continued to advance on her.

"And I hear them." she whispered, "The screams, so many screams in the night – how can you bear it?"

She felt the wall at her back. She looked up into Scorpius' inscrutable face. Suddenly she felt acutely aware of her surroundings.

"What was I saying?" she said brightly. "I don't know. Stew! That was it, I'll make a nice hot Ma -"

She gasped. She felt a lancing icy pain in her stomach. She looked down and saw blood spreading. She looked back into Scorpius' expressionless eyes.

"I think not."

Scorpius tore the knife up, slicing through skin and flesh and muscle and grating against bone. Curiously Noranti felt herself falling, but she felt no pain. She open her mouth but no sound would come.

As the blackness descended, her last memory was of Scorpius crouched down beside her, his expression sympathetic.

"Such a pity." his voice seemed to come from a long way away.

Then the darkness took her.


	19. Chapter 19

"How dare he!"

Akhna hurled the glass vase. The kalish servant dodged just an instant too late and it crashed into the side of the mans head, sending him sprawling. She took a small measure of satisfaction in that, and in the look of apprehension and terror that crossed the face of the remaining servant.

"It was my forces that eliminated the Kalish resistance! My forces that lead the assault on Taloc!"

Taloc had been a large mining colony on the edge of Scarran space. After the humiliation that had been the war with the Peacekeepers, Taloc had declared itself independent of Scarran rule and under Peacekeeper protection.

A few years ago, Scarran response would have been swift and decisive. But now – now the Hierarchy, after due deliberation, had concluded that the colony did not warrant the resources it would take to reclaim it, nor the diplomatic fallout that would ensue.

Akhna was incensed. It was an insult to the Scarran empire. Scarrans did not care about weak outsiders, they took what they wanted and annihilated any foolish enough to oppose them.

She knew that many of the Hierarchy privately agreed with her, but they remained silent and supported Staleek. _Cowards!_

She had personally led the assault on Taloc, her forces bombarded it from space until nothing remained but desolate ruins populated only by ghosts.

She knew that this action – her deliberate defiance of his command must have enraged Starleek, after all she had made him appear weak and foolish. But after her open display of her power he was uncertain that he would have the support necessary to move against her openly. Instead he sought to discredit and humiliate her at every turn.

The emperor ruled the empire by right of power – his forces were strongest and he commanded the imperial legions. But the Hierarchy was comprised of the head of each of the great royal houses of the empire, they each commanded a sizeable force themselves. Acting together, they were even more powerful than the emperor.

Akhnas problem was that they refused to act together. Each member was so caught up in his or her own political machinations, ancient petty feuds or simple petty greed to see what was happening. Staleeks weakness would destroy the empire.

Akhna fumed to herself. The rest of the Hierarchy knew that she was planning a coup, but with the tenth anniversary of Staleeks ascent to the throne, none of them would commit to ally with her.

Akhna focused on the uninjured servant who cowered under her scrutiny.

"Send for the Nebari." she ordered. "And have this removed." she gestured disdainfully to the prone body, lying bleeding amongst the shards of glass.

The girl bobbed uncertainly and mumbled something made incoherent through fear. She fled.

Akhna resumed pacing, the garden around her forgotten as she submerged herself back into her dark thoughts.

The Nebari had come to her shortly after her recovery from her injuries she had sustained in the war. He had offered her a return to power and glory and ultimately the throne itself. He had asked nothing in return. Of course she had naturally been suspicious, questioning his motives and his ability to deliver on his promises. But she had been desperate – during her absence Staleek had shifted the blame for his failure to defeat the Sebatians onto her. She had been publicly disgraced, she had known that it would only be a matter of time until a member of the family had her killed and assumed the role of house leader.

She had accepted the Nebaris proposal, not really expecting anything to come of it, but with nothing less to loose.

After that, she had seemed to lead a charmed life. Lifelong political adversaries had abruptly turned into fawning sycophants – or died in mysterious accidents. Political and military moves, that could at best be described as desperate, unerringly succeeded beyond all expectations.

Staleek, alarmed by her meteoric rise back into power, had assigned her the task of routing out the Kalish resistance. It had been an impossible task. In cycles, not a single resistance member had been captured alive, preferring to take their own lives than risk betraying their comrades under interrogation.

And yet she had found that conspirators had almost lined up in their eagerness to defect or perish. Within a short time the resistance had been annihilated so completely that there was no trace that it had ever existed.

"Good evening."

Akhna spun round. In the pale light the Nebari looked almost like a ghost. He flashed her a carefully calculating smile. He walked towards her, primly threading his way through the foliage.

"Its a beautiful night, don't you think?" he said conversationally. "You have a beautiful planet, at least those parts of it that you haven't destroyed yet."

"Beauty does not concern me." Akhna snapped.

"You should come to Nebari prime some time." Neiri continued, "It's the most wonderful place you can imagine. Pure, unspoilt – with everything in its place. We like things in their proper place." he smiled glassily, "Soon the rest of the galaxy can share in our prosperity."

"Staleek sent assassins tonight. Again."

Neiri raised an eyebrow. "Really? How many?"

"Three."

"Then he does not truly want you dead." Neiri shrugged.

"He underestimates me." Akhna spat.

Neiri examined the stars. "That won't be a problem for much longer."

"You are certain the imperial guards will not be a problem? They are... incorruptible." The way Akhna said the word suggested it was a crime worse than genocide.

"They will not be an issue. During the ceremony Staleek is vulnerable. So long as you do your part, I guarantee that his last public appearance will be memorable."

Akhna bristled at the suggestion that she might be unable or unwilling to do as she had promised. But only a little, her mood was lulled by the soothing image of Staleeks head served to her on a plate and the flayed and gutted corpses of the Hierarchy – no, she decided, the Hierarchy and their entire families cast out onto the streets to rot like commoners.

She looked around the garden and inhaled deeply. She smiled. Yes, she decided. It was a beautiful evening.


	20. Chapter 20

As Aeryn entered the small room she felt a sense of fierce apprehension that surpassed anything she had even felt entering the fiercest battle.

Maybe is wasn't such a surprise. She knew how to deal with war and injury and death, she had grown up with it as her only constant. She understood it. She suspected that she would never quite understand Chiana.

She peered into the gloom.

"Chiana, are you... " - _alive - _"... awake?"

"Go away Aeryn."

"No." Aeryn edged her way into the room. It was almost pitch black, something crunched underfoot. "I can't. We drew straws."

There was a bitter chuckle from somewhere in front of her. "And you lost."

"Well, I'm fairly certain Crichton cheated somehow. He wanted to play rock paper scissors."

"Crichton didn't want to see me?" Chiana didn't even sound disappointed, just tired.

"Of course he does. We all want to see you, Chiana." Aeryn said. "On that subject could you..."

After a few moments of empty darkness there was a scrabbling sound, a couple of muffled thumps, then a dull light appeared.

As has been mentioned, Aeryn was intimately familiar with war. This room looked something like a battlefield crossed with a natural disaster. Possibly if a tornado had ripped through the room and deposited its contents its contents at random, it would have ended up with a greater semblance of order.

Every piece of furniture had been systematically smashed. Strewn tangled amongst the wreckage was the shredded remains of clothes and bed sheets. In the centre of the chaos, in the eye of the storm so to speak, sat Chiana.

"What do you want, Aeryn?"

The truth was that it had been two days since any of them had spoken to or even seen Chiana. In that time she had not once left her chamber, not even it seemed to eat. The truth was that while Aeryn had never quite considered Chiana a friend – her relentlessly frivolous nature saw to that, she did have a great respect for Chianas resourcefulness and courage. She would never have admitted it to her of course, for one thing, it would have embarrassed both of them.

"How are you?" Aeryn said.

"I'm fine."

Aeryns eyes flickered momentarily to the devastated room. "Really." she said.

Choices of confidant for Chiana had been unfortunately limited. Chiana would have been unlikely to appreciate a visit from either Scorpius or Sikosu, even had either of them expressed any interest in her well-being whatsoever. Noranti had vanished, as she was prone to from time to time, much to Aeryns secret relief. Jothee had volunteered, but didn't know Chiana well enough to really help. Pilot of course was somewhat restricted in his ability to pay house-calls, and had been strongly opposed to the idea of sending a DRD to check on the Nebari.

That left just her and John, but since their incarceration by the Nebari John had began to mutter incomprehensibly to himself and jump at shadows or his own reflection. He woke up most nights thrashing and screaming, convinced for a few minutes that Harvey had returned.

In that state of mind he was unlikely to be helpful, so Aeryn had suggested – insisted actually, that she be the one to speak to Chiana.

Aeryn picked up a miraculously intact piece of furniture from the wreckage and carefully sat on it. She examined Chiana as the silence lengthened. Whatever she had been doing for the last few days it didn't appear to include eating or sleeping. Aeryn sniffed. Or bathing.

"What was it like, being a Peacekeeper?" Chiana broke the silence suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Aeryn said.

"I mean – you were all about like honour and duty and all that crap and you never had to feel anything real. What was it like?"

Aeryns impromptu stool gave a tiny warning creak. She kicked it away and squatted down in front of Chiana instead.

"It was the only life I had ever known. I suppose that I thought that it was all there was." Aeryn thought back to a time – not so long ago really, that felt like another lifetime. "I wouldn't go back. Not for anything."

Chiana stared blankly at her, or possibly through her that Aeryn began to wonder if she had somehow forgotten that she was there.

"Zaan. Talyn. Jool. D'Argo. Rygel. Neiri." she said the names hollowly. "Aeryn, I think – I think maybe the peacekeepers had it right after all."

This time it was Aeryn who paused before speaking.

"Maybe," she said softly. "After John died – that is, the _other _John, I couldn't believe that anything could be worth such pain. I tried to go back to what I was, to shut everything away and stop it hurting. But I couldn't do it. I tried to cut out the part of me that hurt, that made me weak. I very nearly killed myself doing it."

Chiana looked up at her startled, "I didn't know that." she siad. "You seemed..."

Aeryn smiled grimly. "Yes. I can hide how I feel, but I can't hide from myself. Not for long, anyway."

"Yeah, well I'm a better sneak than you."

"Chiana -"

Chiana curled up further. "Just leave me alone Aeryn."

Aeryn sighed and stood up. "Chiana, I'd be lying if I said it will be ok. Loosing people you care for is never ok. All I can tell you that in time it will get better, if you let it. But right now we don't have time."

"What do you mean?"

"We need your help Chiana. But if you're too busy sitting in the dark feeling sorry for yourself we'll just have to get by."

Chiana sprang to her feet. "You -"

"I what?" Aeryn said scornfully as she stood. "I don't know how poor little Chiana feels? I don't understand? I do, and I think you're weak, stupid and selfish for it."

"You – _frell you_!"

Fury leant the blow strength but sapped it of accuracy. Aeryn could easily have avoided the blow, actually forcing herself not to was far harder. Every cell in her body screamed a dozen separate manoeuvres, the least of which would have left Chiana laying bruised and bleeding on the floor.

It took far more effort for her to remain motionless as Chianas fist crashed into her jaw. Her reaction came completely naturally however. She stumbled back and caught her foot against some unseen piece of debris. She fell heavily, but professional pride compelled her to roll with the motion, coming to her feet instantly in a defensive stance.

Chiana winced and rubbed her hand.

"Feel better?" saad Aeryn.

"A little."

"Good. Because we do need you. We're going to enter Scarran space to take evidence of the conspiracy to emperor Staleek. But firstly we need security codes to pass their border patrols."

"Yeah, good luck. Who are you going to steal that from?" Chiana said.

"We were thinking the Nebari." Aeryn said.

"_What_?"

"Moya is hiding in a nebula, just a little distance from the Scarran / Nebari border. Just within range of Scorpius' stealth vessel is a Nebari mining outpost. Ships cross the border frequently, so the Nebari must posses the necessary codes. We're going to break aboard, break into their security systems, steal the codes, then break back out. Simple."

Chiana stared at her.


	21. Chapter 21

Picture if you will, a bar. It shouldn't be that difficult, bars the galaxy over tend to follow a pretty standard mould. It's like there is some kind of convergent evolution, wherever you find a backbone and opposable thumbs, inevitably you find the owners of said anatomy sitting relaxing in groups, happily imbibing the local mildly toxic speciality.

In fact this phenomenon goes far further than most people suspect, so far that people who consider themselves to be 'most people' wouldn't even recognise as people. For example there is the world of Yagarax, a planet almost directly opposite our own in the universe not just in distance but also in time and probability. It exists in a region of space so different from our own that space and time flow and mix like jelly and chance is a unit of currency. But even here, eighteen armed Yagaraxians fold themselves backwards at the end of a hard kilograms work to knock back a well deserved vase of frosted garblefruit nectar.

No one knows why this should be, except that perhaps sometimes sentient life everywhere feels the urge to be a little less sentient for a while.

This bar – on the surface at least, is one of those more high class establishments. Its more likely to sell wine and coffee than drinks by the bucketful. This establishment is the kind that serves _beverages_.

So start with the bar itself. It's a long, marble counter. It gleams and is slightly, artfully curved. Stools are placed along the bar, although no-one sits on them and a variety of colourful exciting looking drinks are displayed in bottles behind the bar, although no-one ever drinks them. This bar is airy and well lit. There is relaxing mood music playing in the background which is guaranteed to gently drive you mad after the first three times it repeats.

The remainder of the bar is tastefully decorated. The floor is sensibly covered with grey tiles, and on top of it are chunky metal tables and matching chairs that some designer must have thought looked excitingly modern just a little while ago. One wall of the bar is just an empty space, allowing in the cool evening air and the sound of bird-song.

In short, everything about this bar seems to be on the pleasant end of the typical bar spectrum. But something is wrong with this bar.

What was wrong with this bar, Sikosu decided, wasn't' the bar itself. What was wrong with this bar was the people. What was wrong was that this was a Nebari bar.

Sikosu looked around the bar again. The barmaid wandered from table to table as if in a kind of trance. She smiled when obligated, she laughed when someone said something to her. Her eyes were carefully dead. Sikosu caught the eye of a nervous looking Nebari who was staring at her. She smiled cautiously. He immediately looked away as if she had waved a weapon at him.

The patrons were sat in groups of between three and five. They sat primly, awkwardly, as if they were fulfilling some kind of distasteful but necessary service by being there. They talked and they drank, but carefully – watchfully. Over in the far corner there was a Nebari, the sole patron other than Sikosu to be on their own. He was a hugely fat man, and the kind of fat man who wears it badly, he looked as if he was about to collapse in on himself, he was covered in a slug like sheen of sweat from the effort of sitting in one chair.

The man was clearly drunk, his eyes were glazed and hopeless. Every so often he would call out a rambling, incoherent proclamation to whomever was listening, then laugh a gross bubbling laugh, regardless of the apparent message. No-one ever met his eye, no matter how loud he became. If they acknowledged his presence at all it was as a quick, distant glance of dull pity and sharp fear.

Sikosu became aware of a shadow over her table. She looked up. The waitress stood meekly, not quite meeting her eye. She leaned down to collect Sikosus empty glass.

"You're attracting too much attention." she hissed.

Sikosu stared at her. She opened her mouth, trying to find the words to encapsulate the vast, huge, staggering irony in that statement. She gave up.

"Have you had any success?" she whispered back.

"Yeah, I think so." Chiana muttered while making a show of wiping the sparkling table. Guy in the corner over there - _don't look_ – he he'll leave in a moment. When he does, you follow him."

Siksu glanced surreptitiously in the direction Chiana had indicated. There were three Nebari, two men and a woman. All three were dressed in utilitarian grey that made them look like drones. One of the men was large, heavily built, with an air of quiet confidence about him. The other looked like a kind of small rodent that was looking for the eagle. He looked around nervously, blinking. He clutched a briefcase to him like a shield.

Sikosu focused on the first man. He met her eyes for a moment before continuing his conversation without reaction.

"And he is my contact in the Nebari resistance/" she said.

"Yeah, I think." Chiana said.

"You think?"

"Well, either that or he's an establishment enforcer."

Sikosu frowned. "And how do I tell the difference?"

Chiana shrugged, just slightly. "Well, if he's an enforcer we'll all be dead in a few arns. We'll probably know by then."

Chiana straightened up and moved over to another table. Sikosu watched her go, noting the way that here, even the way she moved was diffident, timid. She hardly recognised the nebari she was so used to seeing as an exhibitionist child.

In the privacy of her own head, she had to admit that she was just a little impressed. For all her short life, she had fought for the Kalish resistance. But with a few exceptions, the resistance had been comprised of bioloids, Scorpius had scornfully suggested that the Kalish had been subjugated so long that they had forgotten how to fight their own battles. Something about bioloids made made it easy for bioloids to recognise one another, the risk of meeting an imposter was relatively low. In the three days they had been here, Sikosu had no idea how Chiana had found a resistance member, or how she had contacted him.

It was a huge risk, she knew. When it came to control, the Scarrans were children next to the Nebari. But the simple fact remained that they would never be able to gain the necessary security to achieve their objectives without outside support.

Sikosu's eyes were drawn by movement. At the table Chiana had pointed out, one of the occupants had stood up.

It was the small man. He stood awkwardly, and as he did his chair scraped back and banged against his heel. He stumbled forwards and dropped his briefcase. Papers scattered out across the floor.

The Nebari looked around wildly, looking mortified. No-one so much as glanced up as he scrambled on hands and knees to stuff the scattered papers back into his case. He straightened back u and walked out of the bar, haphazardly avoiding collisions with other patrons, tables and on one occasion an ornamental fountain only barely, and seeming by chance. Sikosu held her breath as he managed to open the door on his second attempt.

Sikosu sat, frozen with uncertainty. Chiana had told her to follow the man who was about to leave, but surely she had not meant him? If he was typical of resistance members, the Nebari establishment had only to wait for him to cut his own throat shaving.

She looked around again. Through the entire episode, none of the other Nebari had glanced u. The more haphazard the mans actions, the more ferociously he was ignored. The ghost of an idea shadowed her thoughts.

She rose, with all the grace the man had missed. She tossed a few coins onto her table and walked out of the bar, making a point of not looking at the waitress.

Outside it was raining. But it was a cool, refreshing rain, it was less rain and more a fine sprinkling of water that dried almost as quickly as it touched her skin. To either side of her, trees swayed in the breeze and dripped peacefully. She could hear birdsong.

She followed the path through the woods, she could still just glimpse the Nebari ahead.

It was a convincing illusion, she admitted. The trees were thick and tightly packed, and beyond them there were coarse, thorny bushes that barred access to all but the most inquisitive explorers. If you had the kind of mind that would accept scratched arms however – and Sikosu had precisely that kind of mind, you would find that only a few feet behind the tree line was solid rock A foot beneath the soil was the same, and Sikosu could only surmise that behind the holographic sky there was a sprinkler system and a intricate set of vents an, lights and heaters for climate control.

It presented a convincing illusion unless you were willing to look beneath the surface, much like the Nebari people themselves.

Sikosu knew that she was actually hundreds of feet beneath the surface in a desolate asteroid, inhabited only for mining purposes, but in the cool evening air, it was hard to forget.

Sikosu rounded a bend in the trail and stopped. Her quarry had disappeared completely. She hesitated for just a moment.

She felt , rather than heard him as he stepped close behind her. She felt the touch in the small of her back of a weapon and the small man twisted her arm behind her back with a gently movement that was nonetheless agonising.

"Keep walking," the Nebari muttered. "Who are you?"

"My name is Sikosu." She considered the wisdom of giving that information. Although the Nebari were allied with the Scarrans and were certainly privy to their records. They would certainly have records of her name, and when she had left Scarran space it had been freely, the Scarrans had released her, believing her innocent. But with time, he had come to believe that her release had been staged to draw out those few resistance members in hiding, so her name would be a death sentence. But then, as she was dead anyway...

"Why were you following me?"

Sikosu frowned. If this man was part of the government, why was he questioning her now? Surely she would be taken back to their facilities for that.

"I was told that you may be able to help me." Sikosu said cautiously, then quickly decided to abandon caution. "And if you are going to shoot me, please do it now and stop wasting both out time."

The mans grip tightened and Sikosu grimaced. "I don't need to shoot you." he warned, "I could just break your arm."

Sikosu sighed, ignoring the pain that shot down her arm. "And then I would scream and the establishment would want to question us both." she affected a slow, precise tone as if talkng to a child. "I do not think that would benefit either of us, would it?"

Grudgingly, the man loosened his grip."Who sent you?"

Sikosu shook her head. "No. My turn. Can you help me?"

The man paused for a while in consideration. "Perhaps." he conceded, "We're you sent by John Crichton?"

"I – what? You know of the human?" Sikosu felt bewildered.

"Know of him? The John Crichton who thwarted the Peacekeeper elite for cycles? The man who defeated the Scarrans single handed? He is the one man in the universe who can help free us!"

Sikosu laughed incredulously. "That John Crichton? I though perhaps you meant another. Yes, I know him."

They walked down a side path. A group of Nebari walked past and nodded to them politely, their expressions carefully void of curiosity at the odd pair. They walked in silence until the group were out of earshot.

"Neiri was the greatest of us. I honour his memory and his sacrifice." the Nebari said, "For a companion of his sister, and the great John Crichton, I will do anything to help."

Sikosu decided under the circumstances not to argue. She turned her head aside slightly so that he didn't see her roll her eyes.

"Thank you." she said, "I need access to high level Nebari security clearance."

"Possible." the Nebari mused, "When?"

"As soon as is possible. Are you not going to ask me why?"

The Nebari shook his head, "The less I know, the less I can tell them if I am caught. Meet me again in the café one day from now. I'll drop something by your seat as I walk past, I'll signal you with..."

Walking through the pseudo forest, they outlined their plans. Sikosu did not believe in luck or fate, but she had a feeling that somehow this plan would fare as well as any of their others...


	22. Chapter 22

"War. War never changes. No, that's not right – of course it does, it changes everything. Hmm. In this dark time... return signifies a ray of hope... must unite in common purpose to build a new... a new hope for... frell it, this used to be easy!"

Rygel sighed. He had had a lifetime to compose this speech. His triumphant homecoming was supposed to be a time of celebration, of general rejoicing and vast gluttony while he basked in the adoration of his exultant subjects.

For some reason he could not quite place his finger on, he felt less like a vindicated hero returning from exile, and more like a truant child creeping in through the back door, trying not to be noticed.

Rygel cleared his throat theatrically. "My loyal subjects. The path has been long and difficult. But through betrayal and suffering, through slavery most vile, I your noble dominar, am finally returned to you. We stand at the dawn of a new era for our people, and to further that goal... glory of the empire... a brave new alliance... furthermore. Oh yotz!"

Rygel glared at the scribe stood with pen poised, daring him to comment. He glanced around the richly furnished room without seeing it. He took a bite of exquisitely spiced crama root. It tasted oddly bland to him..

He tried again without much enthusiasm, "In this bold new era we must forge new friendships, new alliances to guide us through the hardships to come. To further that... must unite in common purpose..."

He trailed off again. Why was it that a few cycles ago, lying bleeding, tortured and starved in a Peacekeeper cell the words would come to him effortlessly, yet now they were harder to grasp than fog?

He felt like there was a voice in his head, screaming at him so loud that it deafened him, yet still he could not quite make out the words.

"Trouble, your eminence?"

The smooth, well oiled voice came from directly behind Rygel and very nearly caused a premature end to his days of public speaking as he almost swallowed his own tongue in fright.

He spun around to face the smiling Neiri.

"You!" Rygel growled. "What are you doing here?"

Neiri settled down onto one a low, wide sofa as comfortably as if it was made for a Nebari instead of a Hynerian.

"Just passing through, your excellence." he said. "Just in the area."

Ryge humphed. "Last I heard, you were somewhere in Scarran space. Were you just passing through there as well?"

Neiri shrugged casually. "I get around. "There was a strange, predatory gleam to the Nebaris smile. "Been checking up on me, Dominar? Don't you trust me?"

"No – no, I mean of course yes. Erm." Rygel stammered hurriedly.

And he did trust him, of course. There was no doubt about that in his mind. In fact he had never been so certain of anything in his life. The Nebari were their friends, allies beyond even the possibility of consideration of question, and Neiri was their representative. But there was something in Rygels core that rebelled. No matter what he told himself; what he knew had to be the inviolate truth, there was a little unshakably cynical voice in his head. It was telling him that the man standing - or rather sitting before him with a permanent smile on his face, the man that was now unofficially dictating policy for his entire empire; was the kind of man he would be a fool to buy a second hand space-craft from

Rygel blinked and shook his head in confusion. _What was he thinking again?_ Something about the Nebari being our friends, he decided. That had to be it.

"Good." Neiri smiled, and Rygel couldn't help noticing that the smile was just a litle_ too_ bright. "It's important for friends to trust one another.

Rygel mumbled something that he hoped sounded vaguely conciliatory. He rubbed at his aching head. It seemed like there was a voice in there that didn't belong, faint, discordant, but horribly persistent in its message that he could never quite make out. Another thought surfaced from the bubbling turmoil that was his mind.

"Trust." he said. He looked up to see Neiri scrutinising his expression, "The Scarrans – you can't trust them."

"Maybe not." Neiri said, "But you can always trust a snake to be a snake. The Scarrans have their role to play, as do we all."

Rygel shook his head. "They will betray you. It's in their nature. In their... blood." he frowned, puzzled where those words had come from.

"Then they will learn the price of betraying my people." Neiri stared through Rygel, his eyes haunted as for just an instant his constant mask slipped.

"They do not tolerate betrayal at all." he whispered hollowly.

Rygel shuddered and looked away, because anything was better than looking into Neiri's eyes right now.

Neiri stood with far less grace than usual. He walked across the room, apparently to examine a tapestry in detail. It depicted Flatula; goddess of fertility, sitting in the centre of a lake filled with her spawn. Even Rygel failed to see what he would find so engrossing in such a spectacle.

"How are things here on Hyneria?" Neiri said after an uncomfortable pause.

"Not well," Rygel admitted. "The bombing of the Eidelon temple, the assassination of grand chancellor Graza and the mysterious disappearance of the Delvian matriarch have all left my people nervous, fearful of an attack on our own home waters."

"Yes, we live in turbulent times." Neiri observed.

"Conveniently for you."

"Precisely. When the universe becomes too unstable, when anarchy reigns and people tear each other apart through fear and hatred, we shall be there to restore order. We shall provide stability, safety, guidance and control."

"It won't work." Rygel whispered, horrified.

Neiri paced irritably, too self absorbed to notice. "Won't it?" he said. "What do you think people really want? Do they want freedom? Hope? Spiritual enlightenment perhaps?

"No, people want safety. They want security and they want to be told what to do. Offer them that and they will accept anything else we decide is right.

"No. People will not accept that. They will not believe you."

Neiri turned to face him and his face had returned to its carefully friendly expression.

"Yes, they will. They will see the evidence for themselves, and if they do not wish to, the contagion will help them to."

"The contagion? I've heard of that." Rygel mused.

"Of course. My unfortunate, misguided sister. She does not understand, but one day we will help her to. Until then, she and her friend too have their part to play, even if they don't know it yet." Neiri watched Rygel carefully, his eyes narrowing, "Would it disturb you, your eminence, to know that fully a third of the galaxy has been infected? That you yourself are infected?"

Now it was Rygels turn to find something captivating to look at on the far wall. He waited until he was sure that his expression was neutral before turning back.

"I don't know, is it fatal?" he said.

"What would you do if I said that it was?"

"I... suppose that I would accept that it is for the greater good." Rygel said slowly.

Neiri laughed. "Very good. People must come to realise as you have come to realise. We know what is best. We have wisdom and foresight that others do not posses, and it is our duty to share with as many as we can."

Neiri selected a multicoloured fruit from a bowl and bit into it with every sign of enjoyment. Rygel felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his stomachs and the whispering voice in his head intensified.

Neiri laughed, "Relax Ryg, the contagion is harmless. It simply insures that people are predisposed to see things our way."

Rygel wondered about that but decided not to mention it. Why would people need assistance seeing things the Nebari way? It was self evident... wasn't it?

"And are you infected?"

Neiri look startled. "What makes you say that?"

Because part of you doesn't seem to believe a word you're saying. Because behind that permanent smile, you look as if you wish you were dead, and are half way there already. Because – wait, why am I thinking like this? The Nebari are our friends, aren't they?

"Chiana told me that you ran from your own government. You were a freedom fighter."

"I was a terrorist." Neiri amended. "The establishment made me understand the terrible depth of my mistake, how wrong I was to trt to fight them.

But the Nebari are immune to the contagion - although we can be carriers. The establishment infected Chiana and I, cycles ago. In our ignorance, in our childish fear we misunderstood their intentions and we ran from them. But the establishment, in their wisdom, have a role for even us. We did not realise that we were unwitting messengers of the truth."

"And what truth is that?" Rygel tried not to make it obvious as he glanced round the room, looking for something that he could use as a weapon. The defiant whisper in his head had become a shout, and while the voice was not his own, he knew that it spoke the truth, no matter how ugly.

"The truth is that we are all one." Neiri said vehemently. "Nebari, Sebacian, Hynerian – we're all part of the same universe, when we fight one another we diminish ourself. Its that sense of self, of being individual – that's the enemy. It's that which drives us to divide the universe into us and them and tells us we must hate them – that's the enemy.

The establishment, they showed me the truth. They will save us from ourselves."

Rygel stared. In the back of his mind, he was aware that the voice had gone quiet, all the voices pulling him one way then the other had gone quiet, leaving just a tired, frightened Hynerian.

The Hynerian regarded the fanatic pacing tirelessly before him. He wondered about Neiri's terrible sense of purpose. He wondered if anyone that certain, that absolute in his certainty could even be wrong, even if the entire galaxy said he was. He wondered at his own conflicting turmoil of thoughts and ideas. He wondered if it was possible for him to be right in the face of such righteousness.

"Picture it, your eminence!" Countless millennia of struggle and pain, and finally we have a chance to create something better! How could we refuse?"

"And the Scarrans?"

Again Neiri smiled his wide, emotionless smile. "There must always be sacrifices. For the greater good."

Rygel reflected privately on the greater good, and that those who designated themselves agents of the greater good never seemed to end up being the ones who bled for it.

Rygel had spent half a lifetime in Peacekeeper prisons. He had been beaten, spat on, tortured, starved and then they'd laughed at his pain then forgotten him. In all that time he had never felt so alone as he did now.

He realised that the whispering in his ear that had never quite allowed him to sink into the Nebari induced nirvana had been speaking in a voice that he recognised. When he had last been on Moya, mindlessly gobbling food _she_ had prepared for him, her voice had slipped quietly into his head, repellently, insidiously, wondrously.

"Thanks a lot, you old crone." Rygel muttered darkly.

"What was that, Rygel?"

Rygel turned. He opened his mouth to speak.

Then the room turned searing white and deafeningly loud something burning shot just past his ear and kept on going when it reached the wall. Rygel leaped forwards as the entire world seemed to land on top of him.


	23. Chapter 23

Crichton had no idea where he was. In fairness, he had spent most of the last few years of his life with no idea where he was, or more precisely that he knew exactly where he was, he knew exactly where Earth was, but he just had absolutely no idea where any of the rest of the universe was in relation to those two points. Everyone, he had reflected, was lost when they considered things on a big enough scale, when the horizon went on to infinity.

So this in a curious way was much worse Being lost in the vastness of space gave him an awe inspiring sense of scale. Being lost in a few square miles of catacombs just gave his a sense of insignificance. And a dead sense of crushing claustrophobia, coupled with a sense of being like the ghost of a rat in a maze; doomed to wander aimlessly searching for phantom cheese forever.

He shuddered. Immediately he felt Aeryns fingers brush against his own, seemingly just a chance contact, but it left his entire body tingling with its unspoken message.

He could never be lost so long as she was with him.

He looked around again. The scenery hadn't improved much – crumbling red earthen corridors that frequently decayed to slithering mud as water seeped through wet porous walls. Dull glowing rocks were set into the walls or sometimes had falled to the ground, just barely illuminating enough for them to see – which consisted of more and more mud-logged passageways that always seemed on the verge of collapse. Several times they had reached mudslides that had forced them to turn back, or they had been forced to dig through with their bare hands. Often enough that it became a background noise they heard the echo of a wet booming _splat_ as a distant tunnel gave way to centuries of pressure and yielded to the inevitable.

Crichton glanced to his side. Aeryn trudged along beside him, she caught his eye and smiled slightly. Yet again he marvelled at how beautiful she was was. Even down here, amongst the much and the mire, having done more than her share of shifting said much, she was still near pristine, and to Crichton the occasional mud splat or sweat stain only added to her rugged beauty.

Crichtons hands and arms were coated with the gelatinous stuff. Scorpius was similarly affected but seemed indifferent to the dirt – as much as it was ever possible to guess what the half breed was thinking. Sikosu on the other hand had adamantly refused to assist at all, staring at their splattered forms with a level of horror that would have seemed more appropriate if they'd cheerfully covered themselves with sulphuric acid.

Chiana had also refused to help clearing the tunnels. Instead she had opted to explore side tunnels whenever they were forced to stop. What was strange was that she had still somehow managed to become covered in mud from head to toe so thoroughly that if she stood against the wall and closed her eyes she seemed to disappear. She said that it improved her colour. Down here amongst the ancient dead and the dark and the slime, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

Crichton looked into a rectangular alcove as they passed it. Like most of the others, its millennia dead occupant lay slumbering in all his decaying finery, surrounded by tarnished hoarders of dimly glittering treasures. Crichton wondered if it helped at all.

They reached another intersection. Sikosu peered uncertainly into the gloom and conducted a whispered conversation with Scorpius.

They stood, waiting in the slimy darkness, listening to the echo of a distant drip. Eventually, someone was going to get impatient, and Crichton wasn't surprised to find that it was him.

"Hey Mr and Mrs Freak, are we lost?"

Sikosu shot him a glare that could have poisoned a scorpion.

"_I_ am not lost." she declared, "I am perfectly capable of correlating my location with absolute accuracy. _Your_ ineptitude is not my concern."

"Hey, I was just asking." Crichton spread his hands. He turned back to Aeryn and Chiana. "I think that's a 'yes'." he whispered loudly.

After a few more moments, Sikosu and Scorpius turned back to them.

"It is this way." she pointed confidently.

Less than twenty foot down the passage however, they found themselves facing a large cave-in.

Chiana laughed. "Hey nice work Sikosu. Good thing you're here or we might have found our way out by now."

Sikosu opened and shut her mouth several times. "Frell you, Chiana!" she spluttered, "I am doing the best I can."

Chiana grinned and stepped towards her. "Aw," she crooned, "What's wrong? Does Super-Psycho want a hug?" she dripped.

Sikosu scuttled away from her so quickly that she almost slipped. She raised her hands defensively. "Chiana..."

The rest of them regarded the impassive wall of mud and rock.

"Well, there could be hundreds of tonnes of mud behind there." Aeryn said, "We can't dig through – not unless we've got a few cycles to spare, anyway."

"This is the correct direction." Scorpius insisted, "If we turn aside, we may not be able to find another route."

"Fine Scorpy." Crichton snapped, "This might be the right way, but we're not getting through. So unless you and the Mrs want to settle down here and start up the freakiest family since the Osborne's, what do you suggest we do here?"

Scorpius faced Crichton, his expression bland.

"I simply believe that we should examine all options before turning back, John."

"Options. Tell me, what frelling options?"

"Well we -"

"Shut up!" Crichton was shouting now and he didn't know why.

"John." there was just a hint of warning in Aeryns tone.

"No! No, Aeryn." Crichton tried to shake her gently restraining hand from his shoulder, and was further annoyed to find that he could not. "I'm sick of this. I'm sick of him! What are we doing listening to this hammer horror reject anyway? We're on the damn Scarran home world – what the hell are we doing?"

"I can get through." Chiana said quietly.

"You agreed with this plan, John." Aeryn raised her voice just to be heard. "The Nebari need to be stopped, and as long as we're a threat, they'll keep hunting us. You said -"

"I don't care what I said Aeryn, this is suicide!"

"I can get through." Chiana pointed towards the roof, "Look, there's a gap."

They craned to look. It took Crichton several seconds to see where she was pointing and he still wasn't sure whether he was seeing anything or if his eyes were just seeing what they were being told was there. Up in the corner, where the rubble and mud met the ragged remnants of the roof and the wall, was a tiny gray ray of light. There might have been a hole, or it might have just been a slight texture in the darkness.

"Chiana, I know you're small," Crichton said doubtfully, "but I couldn't squeeze half a cat through there. And we've got no idea what's on the other side."

"It's gotta be better than what's on this side." Chiana said, "I can get through!"

She leaped nimbly up the shifting mound of earth and after a few seconds was wriggling her way through.

After a few moments she stopped, and Crichton heard her muffled voice.

"What was that?" he said.

Sikosu sighed. "She says that she is stuck."

"Oh."

Chianas voice wafted through again, followed by what sounded like a splutter.

"She says that she can see the passageway, but can someone give her a push. Also, she swallowed some mud saying that." Sikosu rolled her eyes. "Also she swallowed some mud telling us that she swallowed some mud."

Crichton looked up at the hole, that was currently plugged by Chianas posterior.

"Right, any volunteers to g give Chi a push?" he looked around. He sighed, "Thought not."

Grumbling, Crichton climbed after Chiana. The mud and rubble Chiana had ran up seemed to shift and disintegrate under his every touch. The ascent of man involved a large amount of swearing and slipping.

He looked into the hole. A pair of boots and legs were sticking out. Chianas rear end was wedged between two pieces of stone, like a rump sandwich.

Trying to preserve what little remained of both their dignities, he gave it a tentative poke. Chiana yelled something.

Sikosu shouted up, "She says 'give me a push, don't stick your finger up my - '"

"Yeah, thanks Sikosu, I heard that." Crichton said.

It took a lot of squirming, a lot of pushing and in the end a total abandonment of any mope of dignity for either of them, but eventually Chiana came free with a damp pop that sounded not completely dissimilar to a cork coming out of a bottle.

She disappeared into the darkness with a shriek, then a second later there was a sound that was half thump, half squelch. There was a groan.

"Chiana!" Crichton bellowed, "Are you ok?"

There was more groaning for several seconds, then Chianas voice wafted up to him, sounding slightly shaken. "Yeah, I'm ok, I'm not hurt. I landed on my head."

Crichton laughed in relief. "Ok, that's good Pip. Can you see anything?"

"I'm in a room. There's like a proper floor and walls and everything. Looks like our passageway broke through into here and they tried to seal it back up. There's some corridors leading out of here. I'll check one out."

"Someone should assist her." Scorpius suggested from below.

"Agreed," Aeryn agreed, "But who else is small enough to get through."

"No." said Sikosu.

"Sikosu - " Scorpius began.

"_No!_"

"Hey, there's like pictures on this wall." Chianas voice was a little more distant. "No, writing. Picture writing. Weird."

"Can you read it?" Crichton tried to stick his head into the hole China had squeezed through. He nearly got his ears stuck.

"Hold on. Squiggle, squiggle, swirly thing, man with big sword. Squiggle dash, dead animal, man with huge -"

"That's a no, then."

"Yep."

Scorpius drummed his fingers on the wall, causing a little more of it to break off and slither to the ground.

"Sikosu, at this time I believe we require your expertise in ancient Scarran." he said.

"But - " Sikosu looked from face to face. She looked up at the oozing hole. She looked resigned.

"Hey, Sikosu, look at it this way – there are worse things in life than a little mud." Crichton offered.

Sikosu looked at him and to his amazement actually smiled.

"True. But I would rather avoid those things as well..."

It actually took a lot less time and effort for Sikosu to squirm and dig her way through the tiny opening. Presumably Chiana had forced it wider in her struggle to get through. That was one theory, anyway.

Crichton waited in the moist gloom, listening to the crumbling mud gradually dissolve around them, and to the distant sound of bickering voices. Distance didn't seem to effect the volume much, after a while he tried to tune them out, with very little success.

One of the walls began to rumble and shake. The fossilised mud of ages past began to break away in chunks and fall loudly to the floor. After a few moments of this, a freshly revealed stone door ground open. In the doorway, silhouetted against the light, stood Chiana and Sikosu, grinning hugely.

"I told you we were going the right way." Sikosu said to them.

Chiana patted Sikosu on the back, which squelched.

"She did at that. Never doubt the super-psycho. So what's next?"

The corridors that they entered were in many ways a distinct improvement. It was better lit for one, with regularly spaced torches along each wall. It was higher and wider as well, the walls were tiled with an intricate mosaic pattern and only the ceiling was left bare. In short, it gave the impression of actually having been constructed, whereas the catacombs they had left behind gave the impression of having come into existence only by accident, and survived only through malice.

The heat however was a less welcome change. While the catacombs had been damp and clammy, here they were hit by a ferocious dry heat that seemed to knife straight through you and burn your bones. Aeryn reached for her water flask, Scorpius looked even more bad tempered than usual.

They set off down the corridor in a direction that seemed arbitrary to Crichton. He concentrated duly on putting one foot in front of the other; it was too hot here to waste energy on thought. Aeryns face grew grim and beads of sweat appeared on her brow, but she said nothing.

After an hour or so of walking they reached a large chamber. It was was roughly circular and lit by one large light that hung from the high domed ceiling in the centre. Around the circumference stood huge, chunky stone pillars carved with leering gargoyles. They cast deep, ugly shadows against the walls, which seemed to dance in the flickering light.

Crichton didn't like the look of the place and opened his mouth to say as much.

"We are here." Sikosu declared.

Aeryn sank down against a pillar without a word and closed her eyes. Scorpius stood panting, his face drawn. Crichton looked around again, his earlier foreboding making a return and bringing company. He'd become so used to phantoms that only he could see moving in the shadows that it seemed like a return to normality. Was that a scrape of something moving against stone, or was it just his imagination? There seemed to him to be a warning whisper in his ear that intensified.

"Guys? This is a really really really bad plan." he said. "We should -"

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye was his only warning. He spun around and for a moment saw reptilian figures emerging from the shadows, each grasping heavy, deadly looking weapons. He opened his mouth to shout a warning even as he scrabbled for his weapon..

Then a huge clawed hand had him by the throat and was lifting him so his feet were dangling off the ground. His pulse pistol slipped from nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor.

He gasped helplessly as the Scarran effortlessly lifted him higher so that his face was inches from its own. He stared into a fearsome fanged face and eyes that glowed with hatred.

"John Crichton," Staleek rasped, "I have waited a long time to kill you."


	24. Chapter 24

"Pilot, what is that _smell_?" Jothee fumed. He considered slamming his fist against a bulkhead, but rejected the idea as pointless and too stereotypical.

"I told you Jothee, came the irritable, disembodied reply.

"But you can smell it right?"

"Yes," Pilot said, "I can."

"Well... good." Jothee took a deep sniff, then wished he hadn't His sense of smell was not as acute as a pure Luxans and he was unfamiliar with the usual odours present aboard a leviathon, but surely this couldn't be normal. He had considered the idea that he might be going mad and imagining the whole thing, this ship seemed to have that effect on people.

"It smell like... rotting meat." he said.

He took another random turn, trying without much luck to track down the smell for the hundredth time. But the smell seemed to permeate the entire ship. It seeped out of the walls and the ceiling and the floor. It was in the air and in the water and in the food. It was _everywhere_.

"Pilot, has Moya eaten something strange? Has she been ill?"

"No." Pilot growled.

"Well then have you -"

"_No, I have not!_"

"Ok, ok – I was just asking."

Jothee hadn't really inherited much of the legendary Luxan temper. His attempts to drive himself into a battle frenzy had been unqualified failures, mostly because he could never quite shake the image of how ridiculous he must look. It had made him a mediocre foot soldier by Luxan standards, but a good leader. But he had experienced it enough in comrades to know that the important thing now was to not laugh.

"So, you can't find anything wrong?" he said.

"I told you – hmm..."

Jothee stopped. "Hmm?" he inquired, "Hmm what? Is that a good hmm, a bad hmm? Hmm?"

"I'm sorry Jothee, just one moment. Moya seems to be detecting some kind of blockage in her... in her lower waste filtration outlets."

"Waste filtration?" Jothee sighed, "Oh crap. Just tell me one thing Pilot. Is that where the smells coming from?"

"I believe so."

"Great." Jothee muttered, "ok 'll go check it out."

The waste filtration system was a network of pipelines that ran along the length and breadth of Moyas body like a web, with a tenancy towards converging on vital sub-systems. They were just wide enough for a man to crawl along, although quite why anyone would want to find that out was mystery.

That was because, as its name suggested, the waste filtration system performed the vital but unglamorous task of filtering waste products out of Moyas systems and transporting it more or less indirectly down into the lake of effluence that Crichton referred to as the bilge, down in Moyas uninhabited depths.

Actually, uninhabited was exactly the wrong word. This part of Moya positively teemed with life, tens of thousands of unofficial passengers resided there. Flapping flying squealing things like bats, slimy swimming things like eels, weird crawling things covered in teeth like nothing you would imagine without serious quantities of hallucinatory substances.

Life in fact thrived here. It feasted on Moyas waste, and off one another. Down there in the dark and the filth, in lifes disgusting, miraculous way they picked through the waste and purified it. Then the clean fluid was pumped back up through Moyas body to start the cycle again. Apparently without her own little ecosystem Moya would quickly wither and die. Jothee wondered what she thought about thet; maybe she thought of her crew as something similar.

After a while, Jothee arrived at the place where the waste pumped out. It wasn't much to look at, just a series of corroded pipes jutting out of the wall at about waist height, a thick oily liquid oozing out, pouring their contents into the tar like sludge that stretched as far as the eye could see. In the gloom, something screeched. Something near Jothees foot splashed in the dark.

A narrow walkway ran along just out of splattering distance, along this Jothee walked, trying very hard not to breathe.

Down here, the smell he was tracking suddenly didn't seem so bad after all. It was like complaining about a drop of rain while drowning in the ocean.

"Any idea where this blockage is, Pilot?" Jothee said.

After a moment Pilot replied, "It should be directly ahead of you now."

And as he spoke, Jothee could see ahead of him one of the pipes that was suspiciously dry of slime. Instead of the gush of liquid that came from the other pipes, this one was barely a trickle. The pipe was encrusted with dried on crud and from it emanated the most putrid odour Jothee had ever had the misfortune to experience. It burned at his sinuses, it made his eyes water. It seemed strangely familiar.

"This is definitely it Pilot." he confirmed.

"Can you see the blockage?" said Pilot.

Jothee won himself a small medal of valour by putting his head into the pipe.

"No, its too dark. I think it must be further up. Frell me it stinks!" he gasped.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you Jothee," Pilot said in the tone of one who is secretly glad for once that he was physically welded to the ship, "but we really need to clear that blockage and the DRDs lack the necessary purchase to climb that pipe."

Those words hung in the air, as welcome as any stench. Jothee sighed mournfully.

He'd been a slave, he had survived limitless amounts of pain and deprivation. He had been a soldier and a leader of soldiers in the greatest war in history. He had even endured an alcohol filled night with John Crichton when the human had cornered him and forced him back to his cabin to watch his quaint little image box. It had seemed harmless enough, but then Crichton had forced him to sit for hours enduring some form of psychological torture he referred to as 'foot ball'.

None of those things seemed quite equal to what he was being asked to do, right at that moment. Maybe he should have felt gratitude towards the universe for providing such numerous and varied challenges for him to overcome.

He did not.

If the priests were right and there really was some kind of higher power behind everything, planning everyone's lives, Jothee would quite like to meet him, to express his gratitude personally. He wouldn't even need a weapon, although it would make things easier.

"Gothy go poo-poo!"

Jothee blinked. "Pilot?"

"D'Argo! Don't touch those controls!" Pilot snapped.

Jothee crawled up the pipe as well as he could. The pipeline was narrow and ridges ran up it providing easy handholds. But it was also slippery and very close to pitch black. Several times Jothee found himself slipping without any warning and only saved himself from falling with a desperate scrabbling grab.

To think that in a way, he had chosen this. After the ordered, disciplined life of a soldier, which had followed almost directly the even more rigid life of a slave, the freedom, the chaotic lack of discipline aboard Moya had appealed to him. Her crew fascinated him, the way they squabbled incessantly, seemed half the time to be on the verge of killing one another. Yet when circumstances dictated, they could act together without orders, without even speaking, as if they had been together so long that they could synchronise thoughts.

And then of course, there was his father. These people in a short few cycles had fought by the elder D'Argo's side, had shared what little they had with him and had bled alongside him. In a sense, Jothee felt that by standing with them, he was sharing in that, he was standing alongside the ghost of his father.

Of course, none of that was the real reason he had remained. The real reason was simple. Chiana was there.

He knew that it was wrong. He knew that every time he looked t her, every time he dreamt about her he betrayed his fathers memory. He knew that he had no more choice in the matter, he couldn't leave any more than he could cut off his own arm. Everything about her – her scent, her pale flawless skin, her stance, her fluid grace, her brooding dark eyes, he found intoxicating.

It wasn't his fault, he knew that as well. It was her fault. For looking like that. For making him look at her, and for looking at him like he knew she looked when he didn't see. Everything she did was perfectly judged to taunt him, to torture him, but he couldn't convince himself to care. He'd find any reason, make any excuse, just to be near her a little longer.

But he knew their time had come to an end. The details they had discovered about the Scarran and the Nebari, their forces gathering to strike the other races, it was too important, it was bigger than any of them.

No-one would stop to listen to the rest of Moyas crew, hunted fugitives that they were. They probably wouldn't listen even long enough for them to finish saying 'Don't shoot!". But for him, it was different. He wasn't a fugitive, quite the opposite. He was still a revered war hero, respected by the Luxan council. He knew it was his duty to at least attempt to warn them of what was to come.

So, while the others had left Moya to the Scarran home world on a desperate mission to kill the alliance in its infancy, he had remained aboard and was now on his way to the Luxan territories, to warn them – to prepare them for the coming of a new, even more devastating war.

Here and now however, he was climbing up a rusty sewage pipe and gradually asphyxiating. What little remained of his nasal faculties told him that he was approaching his destination.

He looked upwards. He could just see some dark shape blocking the pipe above his head. He groped upwards and felt something soft and wet. He gave it a shove and it dripped on him.

"I've found the problem Pilot". he said, "Whatever it is, it's big and it smells like month old rotten meat."

"Can you dislodge it?"

"I'm trying, but its jammed in pretty tight. I'm going to try to -"

There was a movement and the thing tethered for an instant, then fell downward, taking Jothee with it. The next few seconds were a chaotic blur of sound, movement and rushing air.

Jothees next conscious memory was of lying face down in water. At least, it was wet and he floated in it. In his slightly concussed mind he decided that it was better to think of it as water, and just make damn sure he didn't take a mouthful of it.

Retrospectively, looking back, Jothee was quite glad that there was no-one else aboard the ship to observe what happened next. The high pitched, drawn out scream certainly wasn't an approved battle cry. It echoes up empty deck after empty deck and Moya seemed to oscillate in time so that when the sound came back to him it had trebled in volume. In space, no-one can hear you scream, but Jothee tested that theory to its very limits.

As he surfaced from the water in a bemused, light headed state that hinted at minor concussion, he had been greeted by a bloated, discoloured face floating inches from his own. Milky, sightless eyes stared unseeing into his own and a blackened, swollen tongue protruded, seemingly trying to lick his eyeball.

Jothee pushed desperately away from Norantis rotting corpse. He floundered in the slime as the corpse seemed intent on pulling him down with it. And he screamed and screamed and screamed.


	25. Chapter 25

"Are you prepared, your eminence?"

Rygel looked up with a guilty start. Neiri smiled down at him. He gave Rygel a look that included the unpleasant impression that he could read Rygels thoughts.

"What? Oh, yes. I'm ready."

Rygel shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. His half healed injuries woke up and yawned in protest.

The bomb blast three days ago had come within inches of killing the dominar. Only a chance movement and an instinctive dive had saved him form being entombed in the collapsing anteroom. Three slaves and two bodyguards had not been so lucky.

Clever people had come, apparently on his behalf and had used lots of technical terms that he hadn't really understood to explain to him that beyond doubt, the explosive used had been of Scarran origin. Rygel wasn't surprised, he had half expected them to find a big reptilian footprint in the next room.

Neiri placed a companionable hand across Rygels shoulders.

"Cheer up Rygel!" he said, "This is your day of triumph! A historic moment, your re-coronation and the public unveiling of our two peoples unification. It is a historic day."

Rygel looked up into the beaming Nebari's eyes. He really does believe it, Rygel thought. He shivered.

"Here is your speech, your eminence." Neiri handed Rygel a tablet containing the speech he had kindly written on Rygels behalf while he was recuperating. Rygel took it reluctantly.

"I notice that you made some changes." Neiri said mildly.

"Oh, well you know, just a tweak here, some polishing -" Rygel stammered.

"I understand." Neiri patted Rygels back, "But the thing is - the thing is; just a few words here, a phrase there, without you even realising it, the nuances can subtlety change. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think that you were trying to corrupt the meaning of the entire speech. But of course, you weren't doing that, were you Rygel? Rygel?"

Rygel closed his eyes. "No." he whispered.

"That's what I thought." Neiri nodded happily, "That's why I took the liberty of restoring the unedited version for you. No need to thank me." Neiri straightened up, subtlety spinning Rygel towards the doorway as he did so.

"It's time, your eminence."

Rygel opened his eyes. "No."

"What did you say?"

Rygel growled. "I said no, you arrogant, greasy little bastard!" he hurled the tablet across the room and turned his sled to face the gaping man.

"You can do what you like to me, but nothing you can do can make me sell out my own people. In fact - " Rygel chuckled, "This is my royal court, these are still my people. That means _that _I can do what I want _to _you. Guards! Take this repellent creature from my sight and have it shot."

Silence greeted Rygels proclamation. There was a telling lack of activity from the guards.

Neiri shook has head sadly. "Rygel, Rygel, Rygel." he chided, "You disappoint me." he walked across the room and retrieved the tablet, "You will read this speech."

Rygel shook his head stubbornly, "No I won't. Kill me if you like, but I won;t help you any longer."

"_Yes you will_!" Neiri shouted, his sudden shout making Rygel jump. "You will read it! You will do this and you will do anything else we require of you without question! You will do this because we can replace you just as easily as you replaced Bishaan. And you will do it because if you do not, at a command from us the contagion will be switched to its secondary, aggressive form."

Neiris voice was low now, almost a hiss, and he leaned forwards close to Rygel. Cold, mad fire burned in his eyes.

"It attacks the higher brain function you see," he whispered, "Death I am told is guaranteed and near instantaneous."

He leaned back and suddenly all the manic rage had vanished, pushed back down somewhere into the black pit that he called a mind.

"Over a third of the population of Hyneria have been infected," He grinned as if they were best friends, "That's a lot of dead slugs."

"You wouldn't," Rygel quailed, "You're bluffing."

Neiri placed the tablet back into Rygels unresisting hand.

"Whether we do or do not is your choice, Rygel. Their lives are in your hands."

"I..."

"We have been planning this for over four hundred cycles, your eminence," Neiri continued relentlessly, "Waiting all this time, for the right moment. Do you think we would leave anything to chance? Do you really think that you have a choice?"

He gestured grandly towards the double doors, "Your people await, Dominar Rygel." he said ironically.

Rygel felt like a condemned prisoner as he passed slowly down that long corridor. Actually, it was quite a short corridor, but now it seemed to stretch ahead of him forever. He felt the gazes of dead ancestors staring down at him accusingly, their portraits hanging on each walls as he passed. Rygel lowered his head in shame, unable to meet their eyes. His mind seemed blank, numb with horrified defeat.

_Welcome home, Rygel, _he thought bitterly.

After a hundred cycles that still passed too soon, he was there.

He could hear the roar of the crowd before he saw them, he could sense them before he heard them. It was like a sense of pressure, the weight of expectation of a hundred thousand people just beyond that hallway, all waiting for him, for his return. He passed through the final archway and stopped, blinking in the lights.

He was on a balcony which protruded several hundred feet above the courtyard. Below him a vast sea of upturned faces waited for him expectantly.

Rygel coughed. Echoes bounced off distant walls.

"People of Hyneria," (he began) "Today marks the approach of a new dawn for Hyneria and all her people. Today I, your beloved rightful dominar am returned to you. Today begins a great new era of peace and prosperity for our people and for people everywhere."

Rygel looked down at the crowd, judging their reaction. The speech he was making may have been repellent to him, but there was something fundamental in his soul that revelled in the reaction he was getting.

"The way has indeed been dark. We have suffered much, but I am proud and honoured as I stand here today an I see our people here united together as one, a shining light that has guided me through the long darkness. It is with a sense of awe and humility that again I accept this great honour, this great responsibility. I – Dominar Rygel the sixteenth, am returned home!"

The roar from the crowd was a deafening wave of such force that it nearly knocked him from his seat. He held on grimly and waited. He looked upwards and noted the hovering drones that were recording this event for posterity. He wondered if they would take the tears in his eyes as tears of joy?

At last when the sound had receded to a bearable level, Rygel began to speak again.

"I said that today marks the approach of a new dawn, but we are not there yet. It is always darkest before dawn, there is one last obstacle in our path. A race of brutal monsters who strive again and again to destroy all that is good and wholesome in our galaxy. They have tried once to break us by force but were thwarted. Now the Scarrans seek to strike us again, this time through subterfuge and guile, through cowardice and terror.

They have stuck at us time and again, they have struck at our allies. No more. It is time at last to purge this terrible blight for all time, to destroy them as they would destroy us. While one Scarran remains, our children shall never be safe."

Rygel gazed sadly down on the sea of faces. It seemed to him that he could see the future spreading out below him. One galaxy. One people. One voice - united in fear and hatred.

"Our people are fearless and strong, but alone even we could not hope to stand against the terrible might of the Scarran horde. Only together, only united and we hope to prevail.

"But who shall lead us in this great crusade? The peacekeepers posses military might but lack the wisdom to lead. Our people are both strong and wise, but sadly there are those that would not follow us.

All people, all races are ready to stand together in this, but there is in truth only one race with the strength, the wisdom and who are selfless enough to lead us.

"It is with great joy -" the word tasted bitter in his mouth, "- that today, on this great day, my first proclamation as restored dominar is thus;

"Today I have spoken with the ruling bodies of every major race and we are in agreement. Today we join with the Luxans, the Sebacians, the Thaloids and a dozen other people by declaring our unification as protectorates of the benevolent Nebari federation. Today, our future begins..."


	26. Chapter 26

"John Crichton. I have waited a long time to kill you."

Aeryn sprang to her feet in one fluid motion. She still felt as weak as a starved kitten in the searing heat and the motion made her have to concentrate on keeping the contents of her stomach down. None of that showed as she levelled her pulse rifle on Staleeks head.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scarran elite guard emerging from the shadows. Aeryn swore to herself.

"Harm him and you die." she warned. Her rifle remained rock steady even though its weight seemed to have quadrupled in the last few moments.

Staleek simply snarled in response. Crichton gurgled something made incoherent through asphyxiation. That was probably fortunate as knowing him, it was likely some glib comment that would have served only to enrage the Scarran further.

"Staleek!" Scorpius gasped. Staleek glared at Scorpius who seemed to wilt under the heat of his glare.

"Scorpius." he said, "The humans death shall be quick. Rest assured that I will grant yo no such leniency." He turned back to Crichton who was still helplessly struggling in his grip. Aeryn prepared to squeeze her finger on the trigger.

"Emperor Staleek." Sikosus voice was calm and dignified as she stepped forwards, seemingly oblivions to the lethal weapons that were suddenly being aimed at her by the guards as she approached their emperor.

"Please consider, we came here of our own free will, we sought an audience with yourself at not inconsiderate risk to ourselves. You have us at your mercy. If you wish to kill us you can do so any time. But I would suggest that prudence dictates that you listen to what we have to say first."

The pause seemed to go on too long. Then abruptly Staleek released Crichton, who collapsed to the ground, wheezing painfully.

Staleek rounded on Sikosu. Aeryn was impressed to see that she flinched but held her ground.

"Very well." said Staleek, "I am listening."

At a gesture from their emperor the guards lowered their arms. Aeryn gratefully followed suite.

Crichton dragged himself to his feet, rubbing at his throat. "Hey T-Rex," he rasped, "We're here to save your scaly ass. Try showing some gratitude."

Aeryn winced.

"We have information," Sikosu said quickly, "concerning a plot within your own government to conspire with outside forces to overthrow you."

Staleek regarded her suspiciously.

"How do you come by such information, and why come to me with it?"

"Because its not just you she plans to screw over." Chiana said.

"She? Who is -"

"Several members of the hierarchy are involved." said Scorpius. He seemed to have recovered from the heat to the point that he no longer showed any external signs of discomfort. "But I believe the primary participant to be minister Akhna."

Staleek looked at the half-breed with unconcealed hostility. Scorpius smirked back.

"Ridiculous!" Staleek snapped, "She would not dare. She has neither the backing nor the resources for such a coup."

"True enough. But as I said, she has outside support." said Sikosu.

"From whom?"

"From the Nebari." said Crichton, "The Nebari want the galaxy and Akhna wants a slice."

Staleek made an uncertain sound. It sounded strange comeing from his throat for some reason.

"Follow me," he said.

They made their way through more winding corridors. The Scarrans seemed to be a great fan of mazes.

"It is necessary for this meeting to remain in strictest confidence." Staleek told them as they walked, "If my political enemies were to know that I was meeting with alien fugitives it would be perceived as a sign of weakness on my part. I am taking you to an abandoned section of the outer fortress. We shall not be disturbed while we discuss matters."

And no-one will ever know if you decide to have us all summarily executed, Aeryn surmised.

They wound their way through further corridors. As far as Aeryn could tell they were going back down deeper again. From what she could remember, most of the Scarran home world was like this. Too hot, too searing and too barren for even Scarrans to inhabit, most of the surface was desolate, with only a couple of cities located at the cooler poles. Instead the vast majority of their civilisation was built far beneath the surface, huge sprawling cities cut from the rock itself. At lease as they got deeper, the temperature became more bearable again.

As they made their way along and it became apparent that the Scarrans had no intention of killing them at this particular moment, Aeryn allowed her attention to wander a little. She examined the architecture. The corridors were broad and high, although they slanted in slightly towards the ceiling. Along the walls were set hundreds of thousands of coloured stones. When viewed as a whole they formed hauntingly beautiful murals. They shimmered in the light and seemed to twist and change as she stared at them.

The pictures seemed to be telling a story as they walked by. The landscape to begin with was snowy and was predominated by hulking shaggy ape like creatures. They clutched spears in their paws and had leering, twisted faces. As the walls went by, lizard creatures appeared, always cowering and being menaced of slaughtered by the ape figures.

Then, they reached a huge lizard, breathing fire and with rivers of molten lava pooling around its feet. The landscape began to change, turning red and fiery. The lizard creatures rose up and slew the ape thigns so that their blood ran and mingled with the flowing lava.

Aeryn heard Chiana mutter something to Sikosu and listened to her hushed reply.

"It tells the story of Salesask, the first Scarran emperor and their god-king. Salasesk bought fire to the world and drove back the ice. He rallied the Scarrans to rise up against the snow-people -" she gestured towards one of the apes, the artist had really vividly captured the image of its spilled entrails steaming in the snow. "- who of course had enslaved the Scarrans. Once he had slaughtered them all he formed the first Scarran empire which he ruled for a thousand years until he was murdered by the gods, who were envious of his power." Sikosu sniffed, "A primitive myth for a barbaric people."

The image they were passing was of the giant lizard being torn apart by ethereal, shapeless figures.

"I kind of liked it," Chiana said, "Except for the ending."

"The Scarrans believe that they prosper not by the grace of their gods, but in spite of them. They believe that one day they will have the power to take revenge upon the gods and destroy they."

"Nothing like having goals." Crichton remarked.

"It is said that it is Salesasks fire that burns in all our blood, that gives us strength and holds back the cold." Staleek said.

They entered another room through a side door. This room was basically furnished but had not been so ruthlessly stripped as the others they had passed. A thick layer of dust covered the floor but had been disturbed by footprints. There were benches set around a substantial looking metal table and a row of cracked and blank computer screens in an alcove.

"Please," Staleek gestured, "sit." It wasn't quite an order. They sat.

"What do you have to tell me of minister Akhna?"

"The bitch queen is up to her old tricks. She's made a pact with the Nebari. They help her ascent back up the ranks till she gets your job. In exchange she gives them military assistance backed up by Scarran muscle. In the end they plan to split the galaxy between them. The grey dudes get the uncharted territories, the Hynerian empire and the Peacekeeper worlds, Akhna gets the Luxan territories and your empire." said Crichton.

"It is doubtful that either party would abide by the terms of such a treaty for long," Scorpius leaned forwards, "But it would matter little to the rest of the galaxy at that point."

"You have proof of this?" Staleek said.

Sikosu held up a small crystal in her hand. "All here, we recovered this data from a Nebari outpost."

"Because this alliance dies with Akhna," Aeryn said, "You're the only one with the power to kill her."

"And there is another reason." Staleek mused. He smiled when he saw their expressions. "Primitive and barbaric we may be," he shot a glance at Sikosu, "but we are not stupid. You want something more from me."

There was a pause.

"We want protection. The Nebari know what we know and they're tearing the galaxy apart to find us and kill us." Crichton said quietly, "Crazy it may be, but this might just be the only place were we're safe from them. For a few more days at least."

Staleek frowned, "What do you mean?"

"We are referring to the rest of the data crystal," Sikosu said, "It contains details of a joint Nebari and Scarran fleet hidden in the upper atmosphere of a gas giant in your solar system. They mean to strike in two days time, during the commemoration of your ascension. They will seize control of the Scarran home world."

"And kill you, and declare war on the rest of the galaxy." Chiana fidgeted.

"In two days time, what information we posses will be immaterial and our capture will no longer be a priority." said Scorpius.

Staleek stood urgently, "If this is true..." he took the crystal from the table, "I will have this analysed, and minister Akhna will be... questioned."

Scorpius stood as well. "I wonder if I might be permitted to be present during her interrogation?" he said.

Aeryn glanced at Scorpius sharply. Of course, Akhna had had him tortured once, and she had also tortured Sikosu, the only person she had known Scorpius to show concern for that was not a part of his agenda. But it seemed unlike him to make such a request without some deeper reason that simple payback.

"Why?" said Staleek.

"I believe that my presence may help facilitate matters," said Scorpius, "Akhna is well versed in Scarran interrogation techniques and time is short. During my travels I have discovered many alternative techniques that may prove effective."

Staleek narrowed his eyes, his doubts obviously mirroring Aeryns. However he nodded his head.

"Very well, come with me." he turned to address the rest of them. "If what you tell me is the truth, all prior grievances will be forgotten. You shall be honoured guests and shall receive my full protection. You shall be richly rewarded for your service to my people."

He smiled a slow, predatory smile.

"If however this is a deception, you will find that when death finally comes, it will be as a too long awaited mercy."

With that he swept out, drawing Scorpius and his guards behind him into his wake. The thick, heavy door slammed shut and after a moment there was a dull thud as the bolts fell into place.

"Gotta love Scarran hospitality." Chiana said.


	27. Chapter 27

Akhna screamed one final, mournful wail and slumped forward. Scorpius stepped back.

"Impressive."

Scorpius looked round at Staleek, who stood observing his handiwork. Scorpius was an expert at concealing his emotions, he was certain that the brief flivker of hatred that passed across his face would pass unnoticed.

"Thank you."

Scoripus' brief glance took in the entire room.

Scarrans were traditionalists where it came to torture chambers. They started with thick stone walls, the kind that prisoners could spend a lifetime trying to dig through with a spoon and could still muffle the screams at the end of it. There were no windows, just one dim light that shone reluctantly on a variety of blades, chains, whips, blades and various spiky implements. In one corner there was a forge, which provided a little more light and cast blood red shadows around the chamber. The floor was stone, easy to wash away the blood, although of course no-one had ever bothered.

In short, on entering a room like this you would not expect for example, to be served tea and biscuits.

The device that the ex-minister was strapped into was known as a neural amplifier. It insured that every felt while in its confines was multiplied a thousand fold. Every touch, every caress and every blow, cut and every burn.

"I had not expected Akhna to break so easily." Staleek said. He sounded vaguely disappointed.

Scorpius walked over to a bench. He picked us a stained rag and wiped has hands on it.

"Akhna understood much about pain." Scorpius explained, "She understood how to apply it, and how to resist it. But she did not understand how to embrace it."

Without that particular ability you were like a fish trying to swim up river. No matter how strong you were, you could not fight the current forever.

"She made no mention of a fleet." Staleek mused.

Scorpius shrugged, "Yet she confessed to everything else. She spoke of an intended assassination attempt upon your person, two days from now. I would surmise that their forces would be poised to strike during the aftermath."

Staleek nodded. "Agreed. My forced have ben dispatched. They will crush Akhnas fleet. Then we will turn our attention to the Nebari."

Scorpius smiled quietly to himself. "How strange. The galaxy saved by Scarrans."

Staleek took a few steps closer to the centre of the room. He looked at Akhans shattered body with contempt.

"An attempt to seize power I could have understood and respected." he lectured. Scorpius wondered what the point was, she certainly couldn't hear him now, "But to rely on the aid of outsiders!" he leaned closer, glaring into Akhnas one remaining eye.

Unobserved for a crucial moment, Scorpius slipped closer to a console by the wall. He speedily tapped a few keys and inserted a crystal.

Staleek hissed, "I am ashamed to call you Scarran."

Scorpius wanted to laugh out loud. He wanted to jump up and down and shout. He contented himself for now with a secretive, contented grin.

Finished with his minister, Emperor Staleek relocated to the war room to oversee his forces in their impending victory. Unregarded, Scorpius trailed along after him.

It took several arns for the huge fleet to reach its destination, a massive gas giant known simply as Scarras VII. It took another arn for the fleet to manoeuvre itself into battle readiness.

Scorpius amused himself by lounging in the background, ordering increasingly obscure drinks from the increasingly flustered servants. Scorpius watched the assembled Scarran military leaders, he treasured their misplaced smug arrogance.

Finally a signal came through and the tactical display lit up, a screen that covered one entire wall. The fleet commanders voice came through, a third of an arn delayed due to the distance.

"Fleet commander Jakot reporting sire! All ships in formation and ready to begin attack. We are not detecting any enemy readings. Theorise that is due to interference from the planets atmosphere."

It took a little while for Staleek and his advisor's to digest this information.

"Fire a burst of of ion charges into the atmosphere commander. We will drive them out." Staleek ordered.

There was a due wait while this order was relayed, acted upon and then the result relayed back.

There was no effect. If there was a fleet in there, the were keeping very quiet.

"Cowards!" was Staleeks military opinion. "Very well commander. All ships, begin descent. If they will not come to fight us, we will bring their deaths to them."

Another pause while Staleek prowled the room like a caged animal, snapping at anyone who got in his way. Scoripus sat at leisure, like a man enjoying the view.

Then came a signal. Contact had been lost with a striker. They had broadcast a garbled message about some sort of explosion. Engine failure was suggested, caused by the pressure and atmosphere of the planet where the vessel was not designed to operate. No other ships reported any problems, or any sight of the enemy yet.

"Continue descent." Staleeks face was ominous.

Shortly after there came another signal, distorted and almost unreadable, however panic was clearly evident in the few words that got through.

"...explosions all around...detecting no ships...heavy damage...mines..."

"All ships, full retreat!" Staleek barked urgently.

It took time. Orders had to be sent, lost, misinterpreted, sent again in triplicate, panic and pandemonium had to be overcome. Slowly, over the next three arns, reports trickled in.

There had been no fleet, no enemy to defeat. Instead there had simply been a minefield, floating concealed high in the gas giants lower stratosphere. Staleeks fleet had stumbled blindly straight into it.

Most ships that were caught in the blasts weren't destroyed outright. The mines were not powerful enough to destroy the heavily armoured warships. They didn't need to be. Disabled ships spn and listed helplessly, sometimes colliding with their neighbours. The planets gravity did the best, relentlessly dragging stricken vessels down like quicksand to be crushed somewhere in the leaden depths. Of ships so afflicted, only a handful were dragged to safety by their comrades and more were lost attempting to rescue them. Even now, desperate futile pleas were coming from doomed ships gradually being sucked to their deaths.

Casualty reports came in, then more casualty reports came in. They kept coming in, it never seemed to end. Fully a third of the fleet had been destroyed or disabled. Of the survivors, only a handful had escaped completely unscathed, it would take days of repairs before the battered fleet was capable of limping home.

Staleek slammed his fists down on the metal table, leaving an indentation. He rounded on Scorpius.

"_You_!" he roared, "This is your doing!"

Scorpius smiled serenely, "Naturally."

Staleek surged towards him. He picked Scorpius up as if he was a toy and slammed him against the wall with bone bruising force. Scorpius laughed.

"I will kill you!" Staleek raised a clawed hand."

Scorpius looked directly into his frenzied eyes.

"Too late." he smirked.

"My lord!"

Staleek dropped Scorpius and spun around. The technician quailed under his glare.

"What is it?"

The technician gulped. "We are – we are detecting ships my lord. A fleet..."

"Ready the fleet to engage! They will pay dearly for their treachery!"

The technician trembled. "My lord, the fleet – it is not approaching Scarras VII. It is _here_!"

For the first time, Staleek seemed at a loss for words.

"We have just detected them. They have been approaching via a blind spot in our sensors that seems to have been artificially induced - " Scorpius started to hum to himself, "- there are thousands of them, my lord. Our orbital batteries will not even slow them. Sebacian, Hynerian, Luxan, races I don't even recognise! They – there's a signal being sent to us."

"Let me see."

A colourless, smug face that Scorpius knew well appeared on the screen.

"This is overseer Neiri of the Nebari federation. For too long the Scarran pestilence has blighted all civilised worlds. Today, we rid ourselves of that particular problem. Scarran people, I suggest that if you have any gods worth praying to, you do before joining them."

Staleek held up a hand, "Overseer Neiri, wait - " he sounded desperate, defeated, "we are prepared to accept any terms you wish to -"

Neiri smiled, "You misunderstand my, emperor. There can be no terms. This is the beginning of a new golden era for the people of the galaxy, led of course by the Nebari federation. Neither you or your race have any place in it." he looked off at someone out of screen, "All ships, target major population centres and open fire."

The transmission cut off.

Emperor Staleek let out a long primal cry, a scream of impotent rage and helplessness. He truned, claws outstretched. He screamed again as he sought and failed to find his intended victim.

Scorpius had gone.


	28. Chapter 28

Chiana awakened with a start. She stretched, feeling muscles protest that they didn't like sleeping on the floor any more than she did. She rose to her feet yawning. She ran her fingers through her hair. Flecks of mud and dirt broke away and formed a cloud around her head. She grimaced.

Chiana sauntered over to the where the others were craned over a computer screen, wondering vaguely what had woken her up, and whether the Scarrans had been thoughtful enough to leave a toilet in their prison.

"Hey, what's up?" she rested her elbow on Sikosu's shoulder in a gesture carefully calculated to annoy her.

None of them turned. "Hey Pip," Crichton said vaguely, "Nothing good."

"Sikosu managed to reactivate this console and link it into the mainframe." Aeryn said.

"She did? That's great!" Chiana thumped her palm against Sikosus back hard enough to make her stumble. "Well done! So what?"

Sikosu glared at her for a moment. "It was no great achievement." Sikosu said with what Chiana thought was slightly contrived modesty. "My access is limited. I can observe but I cannot affect any systems of importance."

"The Scarrans launched an assault on the enemy fleet a couple of arns ago." Aeryn said.

"Well that's good isn't it? Isn't that good?" Chiana said.

"Nope." Crichton supplied, "It was a trap. The Scarrans got their butts kicked."

"Frell." Chiana breathed, "What happened? They don't think that we..." she trailed off meaningfully.

"I am receiving some kind of transmission," said Sikosu, "I am attempting to route it to us."

A face appeared on the stained and chipped screen. It was a face Chiana knew better than her own. She felt a horrible tight sensation in her chest.

They listened to Neiri's short, terrible message. They heard him reply to Staleek. They continued to stare at the screen long after it had gone blank, after the distant echoes of the first of the bombings had began.

"Oh shit." Crichton whispered.

"We need to find a way out of here. They'll be coming for us." Aeryn said.

Chiana stared at the screen. She felt light-headed for some reason. Every time she tried to focus on a thought it skidded away from her, like soap in the shower.

"What?" she blinked. "But we didn't know, we didn't mean -"

Aeryn shrugged, scanning the room for some way to escape as if they had already searched repeatedly, "That fleet is out there wiping out their entire race, do you think they'll care what we meant to happen?"

"Now would be a very good time to get that door open, Sikosu." Crichton added.

Sikosu's hands poised over the console. She looked frustrated. "As I said, I have access only to tertiary controls. Door access are encrypted systems. I cannot access them, at least not in the time available to us."

There was a dull boom that reverberated around the room and through their bowels. A fine layer of plaster drifted down from the ceiling. They glanced upwards apprehensively as there were several louder blasts in succession. The bombardment had began, and it was moving closer.

"Then we're dead." Crichton said blandly. "Scorpius you bastard..."

Sikosu shot him a venomous glare.

"Hey Sikosu, you said you can access tertiary systems?" Chiana said desperately, "What does that mean?"

Sikosu shook her head, "Nothing helpful. I can access short range communications, climate control, fire suppressants, waste reclamation - "

"Fire suppressants, what does that do?"

"Standard procedure in the case of a fire is to activates an alarm, starts the fire hydrants and unlocks the doors to the affected areas." Sikosu looked up, her eyes widening, "Chiana, you're a genius!"

Chiana grinned, "Yeah, I know. What did I figure out?"

"Sikosu, can you do your party trick?" Crichton said.

"I suggest you stand back."

Sikosu walked to the centre of the room. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, her brow furrowed in concentration. She burst into flame. At first it was no more than a flickering corona that outlined her. Then blue tinged fire wreathed her arms , raced down her spine and licked hungrily at the floor. Her face was a pillar of dancing fire, twisting and writhing like a living thing. Chiana felt the heat burning the hair on her arms she had raised protectively as the fire continued to intensify. Fire raced the length of Sikosu's entire body. From deep within the incandescent blaze, Sikosu grinned like a demon. The floor and ceiling were turning black.

Then Chiana was pelted by a spray of heavy droplets A think shower of water sprayed down from hidden nozzles in the ceiling, except in one area where there was just an ominous creaking sound from the pipes. There was a clank as the doors bolts shot back.

Sikosu's fire flickered and faltered. As quickly as it had began it snapped out. Sikosu collapsed to hands and knees, gasping for breath.

"Is it just me, or are you hotter than I remember?" Crichton said.

Sikosu looked up at them. Water droplets sizzled and steamed as they struck her.

"I have been practising."

There was a deafening eruption of noise and the ground lurched violently, throwing them to the floor. A large section of the ceiling a little way across the room from them collapsed.

Aeryn hauled herself to her feet, swaying slightly. She banged the heel of her hand against her ear. Dust and water ran from her hair.

"I think that it's time for us to leave!" she shouted.

Outside of the room water was cascading down from a crack in the ceiling.

"Ok, now what?" Chiana said, "We're stuck on a planet full of Scarrans who will kill us on sight and which is having the dren kicked out of it by everyone else in the galaxy. We've go no where to run, even if we find a ship we'll just get shot down straight away by both sides. Is it just me, or are we even more screwed than usual?"

"Chiana, panicking won't help." Aeryn said.

"It helps me!" Chiana screamed.

"Scorpius's Ship." said Crichton.

"What?"

"Scorpius's ship." said Crichton.

"_What?_"

"You got a better idea?"

"The ships controls are locked to Scorpius's DNA." Sikosu shouted to be heard over another distant explosion, "Even if we could reach it, we cannot fly it."

"Then maybe we'll find the bastard trying to save his own ugly ass on the way. It's a stealth ship, it's our only way off this rock!"

"Either way, we're dead if we stay here much longer." Aeryn yelled, "Lets go!"

There was another huge explosion. This time it wasn't the ceiling which gave way, it was the floor. It took Chiana with it before she even had a chance to scream.

Everything was darkness. She opened her eyes.

She closed her eyes. She opened them again. It didn't seem to make much difference. It was as dark outside her head as it was within. She felt cold and numb Her mind refused to provide any clue as to location or self. She wondered vaguely if she was dead.

She moved an arm and then she _wished_ she _was_ dead. Layers of pain tore through leaving her breathless, each wave more devastating than the last. She groaned and even that awoke a rasping agony in her lungs. _Everything _hurt.

She lay still as the torrent of agony slowly receded to a trickle, until some small semblance of reason was able to reassert itself over the shapeless seething pain.

Chiana was lying on something hard but cold, uneven and uncomfortable. She could feel. She could feel. It. Biting into her body. And side of face. Hers.

Rock. She was lying on rock. It was hard because it was rock. And it was cold because it was wet, running with moisture.

Happy that she had solved that mystery, Chiana lay there for a little while longer. Eventually, as if from a great distance, another thought sidled into her bruised mind. _Why was she lying on rock then?_

She considered this. It was very, very hard. Her head hurt even more than the rest of her. Was she hungover? That might explain some things, but it still didn't tell her why she was lying on rocks in the dark. Memories of the recent past were beginning to shuffle apologetically into her mind and they did not fit into this theory. One of them included falling, air rushing around her and blackness seeming to swallow her, followed by the terrible realisation that she wouldn't be falling forever.

Chiana tried to think about that, although it seemed like a lost cause. Her brain felt as if it had been through a food blender then eaten, digested, excreted, reconstituted and finally tinned and shelved for sale as cat food.

She had fallen a long way and she didn't remember landing, although she was fairly certain that she must have done. That part of her mind that wasn't currently drooling gently to itself reminded her that she had been in the Scarran fortress, that she must have fallen into some sort of natural cave beneath the tunnels. She had no idea how long she had lain there.

Chiana opened her eyes again, just to vary the darkness. The stared unseeing for a long time until it occurred to her that she could see a light. Up above her somewhere was a dull grey light. It was barely more than a speck, a pinprick in the dark, but in the crushing oppressive darkness, it was a lifeline. It was the hole through which she had fallen.

Ignoring her body's screaming protests she pulled herself upright. Irrationally she reached up towards the light, as if she could grasp it and pull it towards her. She shouted, her voice pitifully thin, her words eaten by the darkness as soon as they left her lips. There was no reply.

Chiana laughed bitterly. She had expected nothing less; she was alone.

"Ok, okay – it's ok, just a big old cave," Chiana wasn't aware that she was speaking out loud, her voice high and shaking, "Nothing to be scared of. Just – just dark, just rock and slime and dark. Caves have to have ways out and – and tour guides and stuff. No problem. Just gotta find one. Yeah..."

Chiana tested her body for injuries. One side of her torso was a mass of bruises stamped into her by unyielding stone. Several ribs felt broken, they stabbed vindictively at her lungs with every panicked breath. One ankle was a swollen knot of agony; and that was before she attempted to put any pressure on it. Her head spun and lurched sickeningly at every movement, little spots of colour flashed in front of her eyes in the black.

Chiana managed a few tottering steps, her arms flung out in front of her in the cloying total dark. Something hard and sharp cracked her on the forehead. Then she saw light. She lay down and waited until the fireworks died away.

She gently touched her her skull with her fingertips to check that her brain was still on the inside.. She discovered a large stinging welt that seemed to throb and pulsate with a life of its own.

She continued on hands and knees, groping her way along the slippery dark tunnel. It said a lot about her state of mind that she wouldn't have found any innuendo to go with that last sentence. Stone brushed her sides and her hair. She sensed a feeling of depth in front of her. Cautiously, she felt in front of her. The rock dropped away sharply at about a sixty degree angle. Below her, she could hear the drip of water on stone, tantalisingly close.

With care bordering on paranoia she slowly swung her legs down onto the incline, feeling for footholds. The stone felt treacherously slippery and smooth. A toe brushed rock that felt solid. She tried to lower herself down to it, but that simple action was too much for her. Clumsy with exhaustion, her arms failed to support her and she lost her grip. She scrabbled desperately for purchase on the slimy rock then began to slide. Then there was only air below her again and she fell.

Chiana had just enough time to open her mouth to cry out when she hit icy cold water. Water filled her mouth and her nose and her ears. She kicked upwards instinctively and broke the surface, gasping for breath.

She struck out in a random direction, in the darkness she had no idea which way was closest to land. The freezing water seemed to turn her limbs leaden suck her down. She could barely keep her head above the water. Just when she thought her desperate floundering couldn't keep her afloat any longer, she grazed her knuckle against rock. She clung to it gratefully, her questing arms feeling solid flat rock above her head. Shivering, she hauled herself out of the water and collapsed.

Chiana tried to raise her head but her body refused to obey. It didn't even hurt any more, she felt numb. She felt a sense of great weight, as if the darkness had come alive and was pushing down on her, some terrible invisible presence that stole away what tenuous little strength and courage remained to her. She laughed, a long, toneless rattle of despair that echoed back to her tinged with madness. When she finally paused to draw breath it returned in sobs. She curled up into a ball, shaking uncontrollably.

Alone, bleeding and defeated in the dark, Chiana lay waiting to die.


	29. Chapter 29

"Chiana!" Crichton bellowed fruitlessly into the jagged hole in the floor. He leaned perilously over the gap, Aeryn subtly took hold of his arm.

"Chiana!" Crichton shouted.

"Clearly she is unable to respond." Sikosu said.

Crichton glared at her. Sikosu resisted the urge to step back.

"We need to get to her." Crichton said, "She could be hurt."

"She could be dead."

This simple statement of fact seemed to enrage the human further. His fists and jaw clenched. He leaned forwards, Sikosu could almost hear his self control – mediocre at best, straining to break completely.

Aeryn looked into the inky darkness. "We would need climbing equipment to get down there. Sikosu, can you?"

She looked at Sikosu enquiringly. Sikosu understood the meaning behind her vague question. Her unique physiology made her ideally suited to climbs others would not dare to attempt.

She shook her head doubtfully, "There are limits. I cannot see to climb. I cannot fly, Aeryn and we have no way of knowing if the drop would prove fatal."

"Then we need to go find ropes and lights and stuff." Crichton said.

"No." Sikosu said, "We are unarmed. Entering inhabited areas of this fortress would be suicide and we do not even know where to look."

Crichton closed on her furiously. "That what do you think we should do, Sikosu? Should we abandon Chiana?"

"Under the circumstances -"

"Nice to know you care, Sputnik." Crichton spat.

Crichton's anger fanned Sikosu's own. She drew herself up disdainfully, formulating the scornful words to quash his accusations. She was tired of people assuming that because she did not show her emotions, she did not possess any. She was tired of people mistaking composure for callousness. She cared, she realised; the depth of that feeling shocked and scared her to a degree she felt unprepared to express, particularly to an arrogant inferior who was barely capable of coherent thought at the best of times.

She looked into Crichtons wild expression and forced herself to stop. She could barely think through an entire sentence, her mind buffeted one way then the other with conflicting emotions. She could not begrudge him his anger and fear when she could scarcely control her own.

"Crichton, we cannot help her here." she said softly, "All we can do is insure our own deaths. There is no purpose in that."

Crichton glared at her unabated.

"At least we can try," Crichton grated, "We are not abandoning her."

"We need Scorpius's ship." Aeryn said.

They looked at her.

"We left climbing equipment there, and the instruments might help us find an alternative route to Chiana."

"We can't activate those instruments, Aeryn," Crichton reminded her, "And by the time we get back Chiana might dead. I'm not going to leave her."

"John, stop." Aeryn caught Crichton by the hand and Sikosu noted his entire body seemed to vibrate at that slight contact. His eyes were dragged to find hers almost as if against his own will.

"Sikosu is right. We can't do anything here. We have to go."

"I have observed Scorpius in his ship." Sikosu said. She watched Crichton as the blind panic seemed to clear from hiss face, "I may be able to override the security systems."

After all – why not? Maybe Chiana _was_ still alive. Maybe they could find a way through a hostile city under bombardment, then back again to rescue her. If you could accept that tiny fragile hope, why not accept that she should be able to simply override advanced Peacekeeper encryption just as easily. Hope could make anything possible, as least for a little while.

Crichton nodded reluctantly and allowed Aeryn to lead him away. Sikosu saw the expression on his face and saw her own unspoken thought mirrored there.

She knew that the chance of their returning was slim to none. She knew that their own hope of survival was tenuous at best, but any action was better than simply accepting their fate.

She knew that if Chiana was going to survive, in all likelihood she was going to have to do it on her own.

Chiana lay shivering on the stone. She had no idea how long she had lain there, it could have been moments, it could have been lifetimes - it could have been much longer.

She could feel cold sharp stone biting into her bruised body, she could feel exhaustion hammering through her muscles. But it all seemed unimportant, far away somehow. She felt numb, weightless – as if she was floating in a sea of darkness.

She drifted in and out of consciousness and she didn't try to fight it. Part of her, some tiny surviving corner of her mind was screaming at her, telling her that she was close now, that soon she would drift over the edge, out of the shallows into the deeps, and they would swallow her without a trace.

A much, much greater part of her accepted that. She welcomed it, she yearned for that end.

"Not feeling so good, little sister?"

Chiana turned her head to the side, the small movement almost stealing consciousness again. She blinked very slowly and focused on the speaker who stood brightly lit.

"Neiri?" she whispered.

Neiri half sat, half squatted next to her. He regarded her with a sympathetic half smile.

"Good to see you again Chi."

Chiana shook her head weakly, "You're dead."

Neiri shrugged with one shoulder. "Yep. Establishment got me, sucked my brain out through my nose." he demonstrated the principle with one finger crooked like a hook, "Now they've got my body running round the universe furthering their dreams for galactic domination. I'm better off out of it."

"I'm sorry."

Neiri lightly brushed a hair out of Chianas face, "Why? You didn't do anything. Anyway, not like I was using my brain for much in the first place." He grinned impudently, dark eyes shining with undirected mirth.

"Neiri, what are you doing here?" Chiana managed to raise her head.

Neiri rocked back and forth on his heels. He never could sit still, Chiana remembered, "Well I'm not a ghost," he counted off on his fingers, "I'm not a robot or a clone – you're not dead – yet, so I'd say I'm not really here at all." Neiri seemed to find something to laugh at in the dark, then his single eye returned to find hers, suddenly serious. "I'm here because you needed me, Chiana. I always will be."

Chiana lay still, listening to the sound of her own heart beating, feeling her chest rising and falling in gentle defiance of the end she had come close to willingly embracing. She felt something like electricity crackling through her skull.

It occurred to Chiana that it wasn't the darkness outside that she feared, not truly. It was the darkness inside her own head, it was the darkness that cloyed thought, that weighed her down with despair and whispered to her at night that all her fears would come true, that she would die alone, that she deserved nothing more.

But the darkness was a lie - one she had let herself believe for far too long. She could never be alone, not so long as she was there with herself.

She opened her eyes. Neiri was no-where to be seen, there was just black. She stared out unwavering into the darkness.

The darkness blinked.

Chiana smiled. In her minds eye, Chiana drew them to her, their faces, their voices, part of them that could never die. D'Argo, Neiri, Crichton, Aeryn, all the rest. Alive or dead, they were there with her, her memories shone out brightly and the shadows fled before her.

Chiana pulled herself to hands and knees. Her head felt heavy and she forced herself to feel the pain, scraping her knees against the stone until they bled. Exhaustion took a step back, kept at bay by pain and purpose.

She reached out with a hand. She felt a rock. She traced its shape with her palm, its surface smooth and cool. She shut her eyes again and behind her eyelids the rock glowed in vivid colour.

For over an arn she carefully explored her surroundings in this way, using her hands in place of eyes to draw a picture of the cave.

The cave was maybe twenty foot square. Its roof was too high for her to reach in the centre, she could feel space above her fingertips. Round the edges it shrunk so that she had to stoop. One end of the cave narrowed to a v-shaped wedge, at its narrowest point was the ramp of slippery rock from which she had fallen. The floor broke away there to the pool she had fallen into. From experience it was deep, but she found it measured little more than five feet square. She must have been swimming in circles in panic.

At the other end of the cave were a line of stalactites and stalagmites which met together like teeth. In her internal picture, Chiana painted them extravagant shades of shimmering green, blue and purple – and why not? She could just squeeze past these and she found a small opening, just large enough for a small Nebari to crawl through. After due consideration, she did so.

For uncounted hours, Chiana meticulously explored, climbed, crawled, waded and swum through the caves. It occurred to her at one point to feel frightened. In the dark she laughed at that thought. Either she would find her way out or not, either she would die or she would live. Against the simplicity of that truth, fear lost its relevance.

She splashed through water again and was knee deep before she stopped, uncertain of her footing. She frowned, carefully consulting her internal map. Finding no path around that didn't require hours of backtracking, she took a few cautious steps further and found herself up to her armpits, struggling not to be swept away by the churning water flow.

_Flow. _The importance of that word nearly knocked Chiana off balance and she let out a laugh of relief as she realised what it meant. A current – she had found an underground river. Hope made Chiana feel warm in the freezing water. She just had to follow its course and sooner or later it would reach the surface.

_Still alive, screw you!_ She shouted defiantly at the dark. Pain forgotten, exhaustion banished, Chiana waded and swum her way downriver, searching for the light.


	30. Chapter 30

"Crap."

Crichton surveyed the view. If you were to ignore a few inconvenient details, it was quite beautiful.

The sun was setting over the Scarran city. According to Sikosu it was called Tolazoran. It was one of the only Scarran cities to be built on the surface, situated over the south pole, which explained why the heat was merely searing. The bombardment hadn't really began in earnest here, there had only been a few stray blasts. The cities occupants had responded to the emergency by staying indoors, which showed that the common Scarran too ascribed to the good old duck and cover approach to impending annihilation. Consequently, the streets were deceptively peaceful. The white buildings glowed in the fading light and in the distance, mountains rose up, rugged and harsh as if they were freshly carved. The landscape was dominated by rock and sand, but what it lacked in life it made up for in colour. Hills were splashed with vibrant red and orange, which gave way to plains of black sand, which just as quickly turned to yellows and greens, as if some mad artist had gotten confused about the concept of painting landscapes.

There were plains of volcanic rock, littering the ground like the ground had acne, the black rock sprinkled with a dust like coating of yellow lichen. In the occasional sheltered alcove, a few withered spiky plants grew defiantly.

It was a landscape that could cram a lot into a very small area, and it went on as far as the eye could see in every direction. If the Scarrans had ever discovered recreational drug use their history would have been very different, although most of it would have consisted of looking around going 'Wow' and grinning. Or maybe not.

In the sky, still distant, was what looked like the biggest display of shooting stars ever, the sky was filled with streaks of light flashing towards the ground. The image was spoiled slightly if you realised what it was, the bombardment was drawing nearer.

Crichton glared back down at the city again, willing the view to change. It hadn't.

While the streets were completely deserted, the image was ruined when it reached the city walls. They were thick, massively constructed stone monstrosities, with huge iron gates set into them. Heavily rmed Scarran soldiers stood to attention by the gates, rudely blocking their plans to flee.

"What do you think the chances are we can tell them we're just passing through?" he said.

"Not good." Aeryn replied.

Crichton sighed. "Yeah, figures."

Their attempts to escape through the catacombs had proved less than successful, they had found the first corridor they had come to had collapsed, which at least saved them a walk. They had been forced to backtrack, then to steal through the fortress. They had found their way out, and had found that the fortress was built into the hillside overlooking the town. And they needed to pass through the town, unless they wanted to sit and wait until either the Scarrans or the fleet killed them.

They crept through the narrow streets quietly and arrived at the nearest gate. The soldiers were still there when they arrived. They crouched in the ruins of an abandoned building and observed the soldiers.

"Sikosu, can you do your party trick again?" Crichton whispered.

Sikosu shook her head, "No, it will take me some time to recover."

"Figures, so we've got one gun," on their way through the streets they had found a dead Scarran soldier, presumably killed by a stray bomb. He had clutched a rifle they couldn't carry between them and had carried a pistol Aeryn now held in both hands. "and we've got a dozen Scarrans who are just waiting for something to kill. Options?"

Aeryn hefted her oversized pistol, "I start shooting, they follow me and you slip through in the confusion."

Crichton glared at her, "Not gonna happen, we're not leaving anyone else behind."

Aeryn glared back, "Do we have a choice?"

Crichton shrugged. "Yeah, I could do something monumentally dumb. Aeryn, follow my lead."

"John, what are you – no, you stupid -"

Crichton stood up and clambered over the rubble. He waved at the Scarran soldiers.

"Hi there fellas! Hey, don't point those things at me!"

A dozen implements of instant extermination were pointed at his head.

"Peacekeeper!" One of the Scarrans snarled.

Crichton waved his hands desperately, "Shoot me and you're dead!"

The Scarrans glanced at each other in confusion. In their experience it was likely to be the other way around. Still, they hesitated momentarily.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. Whats a lone Peacekeeper doing in the middle of our city, completely unarmed? Wrong on both points. I'm not a peacekeeper, my name's John Crichton. And I'm not alone."

Off to his right Crichton heard a rattle of stones. He grinned as the Scarran soldiers searched for the source of the sound. He knew Aeryn, he knew that if she had made a noise, it was because she wanted to be heard. A shot rang out from a different location, scorching the wall close to the Scarrans.

"I've got a full battalion surrounding you right now." Crichton continued, "One word from me and you dinosaurs are extinct."

One of the Scarrans that Crichton judged to be the leader growled, "You are lying!"

Crichton shrugged, "Really? You think maybe I'm bluffing? You think maybe I've just got my wife up there with one gun and I'm trying to bullshit my way through? Guys, ask yourselves – would anyone be that stupid?"

The Scarrans looked at one another uncertainly, at that moment another blast from the oppostie direction took a chunk out of the wall directly above the lead Scarrans head.

"Are you truly John Crichton?" said a smaller Scarran.

"Yeah, but I don't do autographs. Listen, guys – I'm talking to you instead of just turning you all into Scarran-burgers because I know you fellas are just doing your jobs. We don't want to kill us, we don't want to kill you. Right?"

The Scarran leader snarled. "Wrong. Troops, prepare to -"

A shot rang out again. The Scarran rocked back and forth several times silently, then keeled over backwards. There was a heavy thump as the body hit the ground. The other Scarrans glanced around wildly, and several fired shots into the shadows. Crichton held his breath, imagining a stray blast hitting Aeryn in his minds eye, seeing her burnt, twisted corpse lying in the rubble.

He put his hands in his pockets and began to whistle to himself. After a while the Scarrans stopped firing and aimed at him again.

"You know, you're not going to hit anything." he opined, "Whose in charge now?"

The smaller Scarran gestured with his gun, "You killed Sargent Karris!"

Crichton shrugged, "Look at it this way. Your boss was an idiot, and he just got you an instant promotion. You're not an idiot too, are you?"

The Scarran prodded the smoking body with his foot. "No. What do you want, John Crichton?"

"Simple. Me and my squad just want to get through this gate. We don't want a fight, an the way I see it, you've got bigger things than us to worry about." the Scarran glanced towards the rain of fire that was growing closer on the horizon. Distant explosions could just be heard now. "Now, you're guarding this gate, I suggest that you go on your break for the next few minutes, that way everyone's happy. Except Sargent Kariss, anyway."

The Scarran mulled this over. "Lower your weapons." he barked.

"Smart." Crichton crossed his fingers in the privacy of his pocket, "Aeryn, Sikosu – time to go!"

Aeryn and Sikosu stepped forwards. They looked at Crichton with expressions of disbelief. They walked through the gate, Scarran soldiers stood aside for them, looking as if there was something they had forgotten.

"Don't say anything." Crichton hissed, "And get ready to run."

From behind them came a howl of rage.

"Now would be good!"

Chiana awoke to pain. It stabbed and jarred through every joint, it slashed and tore through every muscle. It hurt.

She gradually became aware o a rocking, jolting motion It was like she was being carried, she thought fuzzily. Someone's carrying me. Frell that.

She groaned.

The jolting stopped and there was a sense of motion. She felt herself laid gently on the ground.

A pale blur appeared above her. It spoke with Crichton's voice.

"Pip, how do you feel?"

She groaned again. The voice hurt her ears. It hurt to breath. It hurt to _think._

"Dunno," she mumbled, "Am I dead?"

"Not yet." Aeryn's voice floated from somewhere nearby.

"Shame."

"Can you walk?"

Chiana winced and tried to move her head. Sparks of ice cold agony danced through her body, grinding their feet into the more sensitive areas.

"Ha ha. No."

"It's ok Chi," Crichton said gently, "We're nearly there. I can carry you the rest of the way."

"Nearly where?"

"To Scorpius' ship. We found you collapsed on the path outside a cave. How did you get there?"

"Dunno." A thought occurred to her, "Carry me? Frell that!"

Chiaa lurched somehow to her feet. She took a fet tottering steps then gently collapsed. Crichton caught her before she hit the ground.

They compromised eventually. Aeryn and Crichton supported Chiana's arms, thereby taking most of her weight. Chiana semi-consciously in a concussed way convinced herself that she was supporting herself.

They continued to climb the mountain path. The path way narrow, in places it almost dissipated and they had to scramble over shifting shale. Eventually they felt a breeze and the smell of sulphurous air ahead of them. They reached the end of the path.

It was an impressive sight. They had reached a cliff face. Many thousands of years the caves and catacombs they had entered before must have extended further. Thousands of years of patient effort by the sea had eaten away at the landscace, leaving a jagged cliff that ran for miles like a knife cut. The path abruptly fell away into yawning nothingness as they reached the edge. Far below, the sulphurous ocean crashed against rocks.

Before them, the ocean stretched out, in the distance the setting sun silhouetted vast, blood red mountains, highlighting peaks and enhancing shadows crags.

And the sky was on fire. It lashed and tore at the ground with unrelenting fury, searing and scorching huge rents, tearing apart the surface of the planet as they watched transfixed.

They looked down. Maybe two dozen feet below them and a way to the side was Scorpius' ship, perched on an unlikely pateau of flat rock.

"You know, we really should name that ship." Crichton said. "Something dark and ugly, like its owner."

"it has a name." Sikosu pointed at a collection of squiggles on its flank. "The Rising Dark,"

Crichton considered, "Appropriate."

Long slender ropes were trailing down the cliff face, up to the caves they had entered, it seemed like weeks ago but had been less than a day.

Sikosu retrieved the ropes and they used them to climb down to the ship. Eventually they tied a rope around Chiana and lowered her down. Sikosu walked down the cliff face supporting her.

Eventually they all made it down to the plateau. To their amazement the ship opened easily for them. To their baffled astonishment the ships systems responded to their commands without complaint.

It was like breaking into the bank, guns waving, socks on heads, to be greeted by a smiling cashier handing out free wads of cash.

"Alright, I don't care. Lets just gte out of here." Was Crichton's opinion.

"No." said Sikosu.

They had laid Chiana as carefully as possible on two seats. She raised herself onto her elbows wincing.

"What do you mean?" she said.

Sikosu backed away from them. "I cannot leave. I must find Scorpius."

Aeryn reached towards Sikosu. She stepped back.

"Sikosu, if you go back we can't wait for you. You will be trapped here."

Sikosu looked at the cliff face, then back again. "I know." she whispered, "But I must do this."

Crichton gave her a long, appraising stare.

"Your choice Goldilocks, nice knowing you." he turned away.

A few moments later the ship took off. It hung in the air for a moment, swaying a little like it was suspended from an invisible string. Then it shot up into the air with a roar and a rush of shredded air.

Sikosu watched them go.


	31. Chapter 31

The occupants of the _Rising Dark _felt as if the ship was making a concerted effort to shake them to death. This was a problem with most space faring vessels. Peacekeeper ships like the one they were aboard was designed primarily for use in space. In a vacuum gravity, drag and inertia were forces to be laughed at. In space the ship was a thing of grace, in the skilled pilots hands an instrument of precision and agility. It atmosphere it was a lumbering beast, lurching with all the grace of a brick with a rocket strapped to it. The best of pilots in space were reduced to hesitant, clumsy children in atmosphere.

All that was before you considered the massive speeds that needed to be reached to attain escape velocity. In those circumstances it had all the grace of a drunken three legged elephant.

The ship lurched to one side desperately to avoid another volley of missiles shooting down towards the planets surface. There was a crashing sound. It went on for some time. As far as Crichton was aware there was nothing glass aboard, but it still ended with a little broken tinkling sound. He held on as best he could until the ship seemed to have mostly settled down and the walls had stopped trying to be the floor. He lurched his way to the front of the ship.

"How are we doing?" he screamed into Aeryn's ear.

"We'd be doing a lot better if all those ships would stop frelling aiming at us!" Aeryn screamed back at him. "But we're almost out of the atmosphere – if we can just survive a few more microts."

The shaking and buffeting were beginning to subside. Crichton looked out of the front window at an image that to him never became less impressive with familiarity.

Gradually the planets atmosphere was becoming thinner as they ascended. The stars were becoming brighter, first they were tiny pin-pricks, then they grew and grew in intensity and size until there were so many that the entire sky seemed to sparkle. As that happened the atmosphere melted away like clouds being blown apart by a gale, until there were only a few streaming wisps and then nothing. Crichton knew that if he looked behind him he would see the vast curved dome of the horizon, the fuzzy skin of the atmosphere fading away.

The sun shone, darker, redder and angrier than the one he was used to. Multicoloured rainbows – nebula, were smeared across the sky as if to defy the image of space as an empty monochrome wasteland.

Crichton had seem all this before, many times. It never seemed any less awe inspiring to him. What he ahd not seen before were the ships. There were ships of every conceivable shape and colour, even during the war he ahd never seen s many ships. There were so many of them that they outnumbered the stars themselves.

Crichton ducked instinctively as a hlaf dozen black dart like objects swooped overhead, so close that they almost clipped the cockpit. The ships pivoted on their axis, still in perfect formation, spinning so that they were facing the Rising Dark.

Peacekeeper prowlers, Crichton identified the ships. From this distance he fancied that the pilots could see their faces.

They opened fire.

It happened too fast for Crichton to follow. For one terrible instant he saw the volley of missiles speeding straight towards them. Then there wasa twisting, lurching sense of vertigo as Aeryn sent the ship into a spinning dive. There was an explosion of light, then a moment later a crowded moment as the blast hit them, a twisted sound of agonised metal and the ship shook voilently. Crichton was bounced from the floor to the ceiling then back again. He drunkenly pulled himself to his feet.

"What the – did they shoot at us?"

"Yes. It would appear so."

"What happened?"

"The missiles tried to turn to maintain lock." Aeryn said shortly. "Two of them collided, we were caught in the shock wave."

Various instruments were beeping and flashing alarmingly. Crichton looked at them uncomprehendingly.

"Why are they shooting at us? Why does everyone shoot at us?"

"They're shooting down every ship that tries to escape the planet. I don't think its anything personal."

Aeryn pointed. Crichton followed her gesture with his eyes. Below them, still mired in the atmosphere was another ship, some kind of box like transport. It was scortched and listing badly, several fires were burning on its pitted hull. As he watched, the ship seemed to begin to fray at the edges. It began to spiral back down and became a bright burning ball, then broke apart into several smaller burning balls. Then after a few seconds it was gone.

"Oh crap." Crichton commented. He managed to strap himself into one of the pilot seats, which was fortunate as a moment later Aeryn chose to throw the ship into a loop, narrowly avoiding another volley of shots.

"I thought this was supposed to be a stealth ship!" Crichton yelled.

"That sort of depends on the other ships not having seen us already. Anyway, its irrelevant now."

"What? What do you mean?"

"The blast from that shock wave punctured our fuel tank." Aeryn said calmly, "We'll be dead in microts."

Crichton glared at the blaring instrument panel as if had just made an inappropriate joke about his mother.

"No. Aeryn, there must be something we can do!"

"Yes. We can set a collision course and take as many of them as possible with us.".

"Something useful, Aeryn!"

"Not really. We -" Aeryn gasped, "Wait, I'm detecting an energy surge. Its... frell me – starburst – it's Moya!"

And there indeed was Moya, huge and beautiful, banking towards them and shaking off starburst energy like water.

"Commander Crichton, Aeryn? Are you there?"

"Pilot! Great to hear your voice! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you. Would you like a lift?"

"Hell yeah."

Moya bore down on their ship. The peacekeeper prowlers scattered from her path. Several of them found themselves in a similar position to a swarm of flies in the path of a ten tonne truck. In the circumstances, it was not an experience they would get to repeat.

Aeryn landed the marauder on the cargo deck so fast that it left white hot furrows in the metal the whole length of the deck. Crichton's feet hit the floor almost before the ship had slid to a stop.

He sprinted to command. When he reached there he looked out of the view screen and was dismayed to see that Moya had not moved.

"Hi Jothee," the Luxan nodded in response, "Not telling you how to drive your own getaway car – but why the frell haven't we starburst yet?"

"The enemy ships are too close," Jothee gestured tensely at bristling shapes that were looming over Moya, "If we try to starburst now, they will destroy us."

Crichton swore loudly, "Well, aren't they going to do that anyway?"

He looked at the huge, ominous and above all lethal array of ships that were encircling them. He could see down the end of their turrets. Just once, he'd like to be on the other end of that view.

"We are receiving a signal." Pilot said.

"Lets hear it then, Pilot." Jothee said.

Behind them, Crichton was aware of Chiana limping into the room, supported by Aeryn.

A familiar waxen face appeared on the screen.

"Leviathon and crew," Neiri said, "Prepare to be boarded. If you do not resist, you shall not be harmed. If you resist in any way, you will die. I suggest cooperation."

"This giys comes back form the dead more times than Dracula," Crichton mutterd.

"Soon you shall know the serenity and truth of the Nebari federation." Neiri smiled.

"Hey, Neiri, remember – remember when you were twelve and that kid knocked out one of your teeth?" Neiri's placid gaze flickered for a moment, "Remember what I did to him? Well come over and I'll do the same to you – only I won't stop!" Chiana screamed..

The transmission flickered off abruptly.

"Well done Chiana. Options?" Aeryn said.

"We need a diversion." Crichton said, pacing back and forth restlessly, "Just a few second would do it, long enough for Moya to starburst.

Aeryn squared her shoulders. "Right, I think I can provide that. I'll launch Scorpius' ship and fly it straight into the command deckof the lead destroyer. That should distract them."

Crichton lunged and caught her. "Aeryn, no. I can't let you do that."

Aeryn smiled, "Why not, I'm not planning on being aboard it. I can pilot it by remote."

"Oh... good."

Jothee was shaking his head. "I don't think it's going to be enough."

Pilot gasped, "Look!"

They looked.

"Several ships are breaking formation – several peacekeeper and hynerian vessels. They're opening fire!"

"Oh hell, this is it!"

"Not at us! They are firing on the other ships!"

Crichton stared in disbelief, but he could see it for himself now. Dozens of ships were breaking formation, their firepower hammering against the hulls of their tightly packed former allies.

The viewscreen dissolved and reformed itself into a massive flat green nose and a whiskery face. Chiana laughed wildly.

"This is Dominar Rygel the sixteenth, sovereign of the Hynerian empire. I am officially declaring our alliance with the Nebari to be over.

The Nebari tell us that they are our friends, that they wish only what is best for us. Every word they speak is a lie – _they _are a lie. No longer will we remain idle in the face of their blight. I call upon all free people to rally to me now. We will be free, or they will die trying!"

"Rygel," Neiris voice was tight with rage, "You little worm! Our ships still outnumber yours five to one. You will perish and your people will pay the price for your treachery!"

Rygel snorted, "Neiri, did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much? All allied ships, lock onto his signal and open fire. Moya, I would suggest that you leave now."

Rygel stumbled sideways and the transmission blurred as a blast ripped through his cruiser. He straightened up without a trace of fear.

"Ryg – we can't just leave you." Chaina protested.

"Yes, you can." Rygel said. In the background, fire tore through the battling fleets, "I am not your dominar, I cannot command you. Instead I am your friend and can only ask you. This is not your battle, you can do nothing here except die. Please, leave now!"

Crichton stepped up to the screen. He nodded solemnly, "Hey Sparky, you make one hell of a Dominar. Goodbye,"

Rygel smiled grimly as another blast rocked his ship. Behind him there were fires. He ignored them.

"Goodbye y friends. Commander, take us into the heart of the enemy formation and intensify fire-power."

Dominar Rygel grinned like a fiend. "Neiri, I'm coming for you, you slippery grey bastard..."

Moya starburst.


	32. Chapter 32

The ground shook and heaved. There were fires now, dotted ll around, burning with glee. They consumed everything that would burn and melted most of the rest, they were turning the world into one great rot hot pyre.

It looked a lot like hell might have on a bad day and the heat was immense. But in the glow of the flames, Scorpius' eyes gleamed with cold triumph.

He picked his way through the ruins, past the shattered remains of building and around the burnt corpses that lay everywhere. For a little while, the bombardment had mostly ceased, leaving the unfortunate survivors to await the inevitable second wave. In the mean time, the Scarran home world, volcanic and volatile at best, was beginning to shake and burn itself apart from the inside out.

A little way down the street there was an explosion which sent up a spray of macerated masonry up into the air. Larger blocks sailed over Scorpius' head, smashing down behind him into other buildings, the street and judging by the screams, people. A thin shower of gravel sprinkled over Scorpius, turning his clothing a powdery grey colour.

Further down the street there was a collapsed ruin of masonry that might just have once been a building. A Scarran was tearing at it desperately with bleeding hands. There was a distant sound from under the stone, it was a voice crying for help. Scorpius looked away.

He made his way along the devastated street. He passed the dead and the dying, past the living who who sat in huddled hopeless groups. They had no-where to run, no enemy they could fight. To Scorpius' amazement, some of them were praying.

He looked across the street. A solitary Scarran female was rocking back and forth, clutching a tiny bundle of rags. It was a dead baby.

He stopped. He closed his eyes and put a trembling hand against a wall. He took a shaky breath but all he could smell was blood and burnt flesh. He felt nauseous.

Scorpius reached down inside himself, finding that steel hard ball of icy rage that burned at his core. He focused on it, forced himself embrace it one more time.

He opened his eyes. He surveyed the ruined streets, the scattered corpses. He breathed deeply, tasting bitter terror and death.

He smiled.

Three streets further, Scorpius found what he had been looking for. It was a large, thickly walled plaza, kept separate from the rest of the city by the massive walls and by similarly sized copper gates. Now the walls were cracked and broken, the gates hung bent and twisted. In the centre of the plaza there should have been a ship, the emperors personal transport. What was there now was a few fused lumps of metal that had been turned molten by the blast that had been aimed there. The pathetic remains were at the centre of a rather large crater.

At the edge of the crater, Scorpius's search found its goal. At the edge of the crater, sprawled unmoving in the rubble, lay a large Scarran, his form twisted and bloodied.

_Not dead._ Scorpius felt suffocating rage flow through him. _He must not be dead, not yet._

He saw the Scarran stir feebly,and his smile returned. Scorpius sauntered over. He squatted dwon in front of the dying Scarran.

The Scarran opened his eyes. He watched with the clear calm of the near dead as Scorpius drew a knife.

"Scor...pius." the voice was a frail near inaudible whisper.

"Emperor Staleek." Scorpius inclined his head.

"You... I will..." the Scarran raised a trembling hand weakly. It fell back to his side.

Scorpius chuckled. "Yes, you should have killed me long ago, while you had the chance. And now your empire s in ruins, your people will be exterminated. Within a cycle not a single Scarran will remain in the entire galaxy. You are to be utterly destroyed." he leaned closer, "But first, I wanted you to know, before you die I want you to now that it was my doing. If only you had killed me, you could have prevented t all, you could have saved your people."

Scorpius stood up gracefully and stretched, mocking the Scarrans weakness.

"A fascinating race, you Scarrans." he observed, "In many ways you are primitive, unsophisticated, even stupid. But you are efficient, in your way. And you are quite meticulous when it comes to keeping records.

He crouched again, face inches from Staleek's.

"So many cycles ago, do you still remember? Before you seized the throne, you oversaw a certain project. A genetic experiment – a feasibility study into the pairing of Sebacian and Scarran physiologies. The project was a failure, with only one viable subject produced, and that was deemed weak , deficient, kept alive as little more than a curiosity. After a few cycles you abandoned the project to concentrate on greater things. You never did concern yourself with the results of that project, did you?"

Scorpius reached out a hand and gently caressed the side of Staleek's face. Staleek was too weak to even turn his face aside.

"You created that project, Staleek, and I was the end result." Scorpius examined the Scarrans blood that dripped down his gloved hand. "I suppose in a sense that makes you my father."

Scorpius looked around the devastated plaza and out beyond to the burning city. The glow reflected in his eyes.

"Are you proud of me, father?"

Staleek took a long, rattling breath. He smiled a tiny smile. "My... congratulations." each word was slower and quieter than the last, "You are... truly... Scarran."

Scorpius remained still as a statue for a long moment. His eyes widened. H rocked backwards as if he had been struck a physical blow. He sprang to his feet, snarling incoherently. He kicked a piece of inoffensive rubble which smashed into dust and splinters under the blow.

He spun back to the motionless Scarran and howled wordlessly.

"_NO!_"

Scorpius sprung forwards knife raised. But it was too late. He stabbed, again and again, his blade plunging deeply into Staleek's unmoving chest.

Snarling, raging, spiting and weeping, Scorpius took his belated revenge against the dead Scarran.

At long last it was over, Scorpius slumped exhausted over the corpse, feeling as empty and dead as the mutilated body.

"Scorpius."

The clear voice rang out across the square, its echoes loud enough to drown out the distant sounds of panic and pain. Scorpius straightened and turned. His eyes were calm now, as clear and cold as space – and as empty.

"Sikosu."

The Kalish girl picked her way across the ruins towards him. Er gaze flickered from the corpse and back again. She drew and raised a pistol, aiming it directly at her head.

"You did this." her voice trembled. Her aim did not.

Scorpius shrugged. He started to slowly thread his way towards her.

"Yes." he said simply.

"You did all of his!" Sikosu shouted, "The Nebari – Moya and her crew, you planned everything! You used all of us."

"Yes." Scorpius repeated.

Sikosu shook her head, whether through disbelief at his actions or at his freely admitting them, Scorpius did not know. He kept his eyes fixed on the weapon.

"When I found Moya's crew aboard that transport," Sikosu said, "they were imprisoned, they were being tortured. But not you – you were free. I simply assumed that you must have escaped."

Scorpius shook his head and chuckled. "Your faith in my ability is touching. But to escape captivity from the Scarrans and the Nebari without assistance? No. Your arrival was well timed, although admittedly I left ample opportunity to follow my trail."

Sikosu looked surprised, "You wanted me to find you?"

"Of course. I was counting on it."

"Then..." Sikosu looked stricken, "At the end of the war, you abandoned me, alone and injured, either to die or be captured by the Scarrans."

Scorpius watched the gun waver, carefully measuring the distance that still separated them. "True." he said.

"I was tortured!"

Scorpius sighed, "I left you in precisely the position I needed you to be. You see, I have faith in your ability as well. I had no doubt that you would survive." he spread his hands, "As to the rest, I also had faith in your resilience."

Sikosu stopped a few paces from Scorpius. She gestured with her pistol and he did likewise.

"Why?"

Although Sikosu's query was vague, Scorpius chose to answer the underlying question.

"Towards the conclusion of the war, I realised that the Scarrans would never be wholly defeated, at best we might gain a temporary reprieve. I needed to begin to plan for the future.

"In the past I had my own contacts and sources of information in the Scarran empire, but they had been eliminated during the fighting. I needed someone that the Scarrans trusted. When you betrayed me to them -"

"I did not-"

Scorpius waved her silent, "I saw an opportunity to push that further. When the Scarrans saw that I had seemingly abandoned you, when even you believed this to be so, they would come to trust you in a way which would prove useful to me. And it did. Without your ability to move freely amongst the Scarrans you would never have been able to board the transport to rescue Moya's crew."

"And after that? You were still manipulating us."

"How so?" Scorpius looked at her inquisitively.

"I observed that Moya's crew seemed unusually willing to accept your word, to follow where you lead. I wonder now if they were not conditioned to do so during their time in Nebari captivity?"

Scorpius shrugged non-committal, He could smell her now. Over the stench of the dying city he could detect her scent, her sweat, her fear and her blood.

"Only a little," he said, "I needed their response to be as natural as was possible. Trust was always their weakness."

"And rescuing Moya's crew from an apparent Nebari attack reinforced that trust?" Sikosu said.

"Yes. Also it drove them to their next step. Crichton and the others needed answers, to find hy the Nebari were apparently hunting them so ruthlessly. When they searched for those answers, I made sure they found the ones I wanted them to."

"And they took those answers straight to emperor Staleek," Sikosu glanced at the dead Scarran.

"That part did work out quite well. Scarran military power is – that is was, unmatched. When the Nebari chose to strike, they needed that obstacle to be removed. As Moya's crew were known to be politically unbiased – that is, everyone hated them equally, they made the perfect vessel for misinformation."

"All that? All this?" Sikosu gestured wildly with her free hand, Scorpius tensed for a fraction of a second as her eyes left him, "Simply for revenge?"

"All this," Scorpius growled, "and far more than you know. All this to destroy _our _mutual enemy."

Sikosu looked again at the devastation.

"Our enemy?" she echoed.

"We are the same Sikosu," Scorpius said earnestly, his eyes fixed on her gun, "You were created by your people with one single purpose. You are a weapon, designed to kill Scarrans. _I_ was created by the Scarrans. I was left with only one possible purpose in life, the destruction of the Scarran race. I could have done nothing else, and nor could you. It is what we are."

Sikosu was silent for a long time, "My peoples enemy was the Scarrans. Scarran occupation, Scarran brutality, Scarran enslavement. Your enemy was hatred, and it has defeated you."

Sikosu took a step forwards. Her gun hovered in front of Scorpius' face.

"I fought to free my people. For that I would have killed every Scarran, I would have given my own life without hesitation.

"But you, your goal was revenge. For that you would destroy an entire race, enslave the entire galaxy. My people will die in their tens of thousands in this attack alone, the kalish resistence was utterly destroyed so that you could attain your aim."

Sikosu stepped forward another step. Scorpius shrunk back as she pressed her pistol against his forehead.

"Before, we could fight. We had hope, that one day the Scarrans would be driven back, defeated even. Now? What hope is there now? We have exchanged master for another, and this time it is far worse.

"The Scarrans were monsters, yes, but the Nebari I think are far worse; they do not want to simply enslave you, they want you to believe that it is by your choice. They want you to believe that the monster is beautiful.

"The Nebari can never be defeated, we can never be free. Was your revenge worth all this, Scorpius?"

Scorpius looked deeply into Sikosu's eyes, glittering with pain, with betrayal and just a tiny glimmer of hope.

"Yes." he said.

Sikosu whispered; "I love you, Scorpius." She smiled bitterly, "Goodbye."

There was one single shot, loud in the silence of a dying world.


	33. Chapter 33

Moya glided through space. A distant sun warmed her, its light a million years old from a time long forgotten. It warmed her, just the same.

Crichton and Aeryn stood side by side, gazing out at the serene infinite. By their feet, D'Argo was exploring important tactical manoeuvres involving a ball.

"It looks the same as always." Crichton said quietly. There was something about looking out across the infinite that made people tend to speak in a hushed tone.

"The Nebari are out there though," Aeryn said equally quietly, "By the time they've finished wiping out the Scarrans, half the galaxy will be under their control."

"And then they'll come after us." Crichton said.

"Of course. The only question is how long it will take them.

"Hey guys."

Chiana hobbled into the room. Jothee made a show of helping her to walk, much to Chiana's obvoius annoyance.

She looked into space. "What's up?"

They returned to their quiet vigil. D'argo, with an unerring instinct for solemn moments, burped loudly.

"There's one thing I don't get." said Jothee.

"Yeah?"

"yeah. When I found Noranti, I guessed she hadn't stabbed herself to death so I came back to warn you all. I expected to find you on the planet, but instead I found you in Scorpius' ship."

Aeryn nodded.

"But Scorpius' ship was locked to respond only to his DNA. How did you get off the planet?"

D'argo regarded the entire magnificence of creation laid out before him. He returned his attention to his ball. It was much more interesting.

"Scorpius." Chiana said.

"What about him?" Crichton glanced at her sharply, "This is all that bastards fault."

"I know." said Chiana, "but when I was lost, on my own in the caves, I think he saved me. I thought I had found a way out, but I was too tired. I couldn't go on any further. The last thing I remember was thinking I could hear his voice. Then I woke up, right next to his ship."

"Which was conveniently left unlocked for us." Crichton mused. He shook his head, "So what? We should give him a medal for helping us out of the mess he threw us in? I'd hope he was dead, only then I couldn't kill him myself."

"What about the others?" Jothee said, "Rygel and Sikosu. What do you think happened to them?"

Crichton shrugged.

"I think," Aeryn said softly, "I think that if anyone could have found a way to survive, it will have been them. I think we'll see them again one day."

"Maybe," said Crichton darkly, "or maybe we won't live that long. We can't hide long enough and we can't run far enough. Sooner or later the Nebari will find us, and then we're screwed."

Aeryn entwined her fingers in his and squeezed. Crichton looked at he in suprise, then smiled when he saw her expression.

"We're dead." Jothee said, "sooner or later they'll find us. We can't win, there's no hope."

"No hope." Aeryn echoed. She smiled to herself.

It occurred to her that that was one statement that could never be true. They could take everything that was yours. They could beat you and grind you down into the earth, then kick you while you were down. But in the end, they couldn't win. Not unless you let them.

"We can't run. We can't hide." she said to herself.

"So what does that leave us?" Chiana said.

Aeryn laughed. The others looked startled.

"We can fight."

Because there was one thing that they could never tke away, because it was something that they could never understand. It could change the universe without moving a single atom.

No matter what was lost, no matter what was taken, there was always hope.

D'Argo farted loudly then giggled wickedly. Aeryn looked at him and sighed. There was always hope, and diaper changes of course.

And Moya glided on through the unending darkness, basking in the light...

THE END


End file.
